


Lethality

by going_down_to_the_riptide



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Bad Decisions, Developing Relationship, Drug Abuse, Drug Side Effects, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fights, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Recovery, Romance, Slow Burn, Violence, bad decisions made on Henry's part anyway, more characters and tags will be added as i go along, rare pair hell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 75,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5613865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/going_down_to_the_riptide/pseuds/going_down_to_the_riptide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tricks and Treats

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fire Emblem: Awakening, nor anything in the Fire Emblem franchise!
> 
> Please note that there are darker themes, such as blood, death, violence, abuse, and other similar aspects throughout the entire story. If there is anything essentially bad, then I will emphasize it beforehand.
> 
> Also, as far as this work is concerned, Robin does not have an identifiable gender, and will be referred to with they/them/theirs pronouns. Also, also! Tharja and Henry are darker skinned than their in-game sprites suggest. You can't tell me that people that live in the desert are paper-white without having albinism or something, which neither of them have anyway! So yes they are dark-skinned because the world needs less white washing please and thanks.

_Crinkle, crinkle._

A singular moment in time occurs. One where paper film is wrinkled and discarded, left to itself as it drifts to the floor in a lazy manner. Wrappers are annoying obstacles, their bright colors and plastic edges serving as distractions and obstructions to the real prize inside.

Henry's "prize" was a green apple candy that was hard and sour and seemed to bite back at him. It was but one of many confections, a small part of a large sweets stash that would eventually be consumed. He really should  _not_  be eating candy, especially candy that belonged to  _Gaius._ But the thief had left his tent flap open, practically  _begging_  for folks like Henry to traipse in and raid the place. With all of that in consideration, it was impossible for Henry to not invade the space.

So, really, the blame is on Gaius for leaving his room so vulnerable. If Henry thought about it like that, then he felt less guilty than before.

And he was already guiltless to begin with.

He remembered when he first entered Gaius' room, and how the most noticeable thing about it was the overwhelming stench of sugar. Not the daggers, knives, or lock-picking tools, but the smell of sweetness and teeth-rot. Yet, Henry realized that there were no identifiable candies or treats in any of the drawers or crevices, and that there was only one explanation for that.

 _He must have hidden them somewhere,_ Henry thought.  _I would have hid them, too._

No amount of preparation could evade a hex, however, especially a curse specifically made to uncover hidden truths. The Plegian muttered strange words under his breath, and when he opened his eyes he could see every secret the room had to offer. A large stash of desserts was hidden in a secret compartment in the ground, right under the dirt floors. It was a clever attempt, but nothing could thwart the superiority of magic.

There were so many sweets inside that Henry was sure that neither the local bakery nor candy shop had as much treats as Gaius did. Donuts, cakes, cookies, and other pastries were packed away in an icebox. Next to the icebox was a large crate that held over one hundred different flavors of bonbons inside. Everything from strawberry, caramel, mint, pistachio, and back around strawberry again. Lollipops, hard candies, gummies, and tarts were there as well, together with dozens of pounds of the world's finest chocolate.

Henry didn't even have a strong stomach, but if it meant he got to humiliate Gaius, then he would eat  _all_ of it.

So that's  _exactly_ what he did. By the time Gaius finally returned, Henry must have been on his hundredth snack. There was no outward animosity, but Henry could feel the other's agitation within. The thief had such an uncanny ability to remain completely stone-faced, even when confronting insufferable pricks like Henry. The dark mage even had the nerve to smile triumphantly, in the thief's own room.

His relaxed figure and stray lollipop in his mouth undermined the true strength and intimidation he had. A hefty bag was slung over his shoulders, and when he let the haul drop to the floor, he could straighten out and have a chance to flex his comparably more impressive muscles. Then, Gaius cracked his knuckles, and let out a deep sigh.

"Junior," Gaius spoke while stepping forward. "You realize you're in  _my_ tent, right?"

"Totally! I could smell the diabetes from a mile away!"

"So why the hell are you in here, then?"

Standing at his fullest, Gaius easily towered over the other, even if it was only by four or some odd inches. Bodily wise, the wiry Plegian looked pathetic next to the Ylissean's physique, and even if dark thoughts of muscle mutilation filled his head, Henry could not help but feel the sting of self consciousness.

So instead of dealing with the inner insecurity, he decided to crack some jokes.

"Just 'cause I wanted to be! You've got a  _lot_ of candy, by the way!"

Gaius narrowed his eyes, but tried to be as calm as possible. He wanted it to look like he still had control over the situation, even if the other's grin implied otherwise. Still, he figured there was a certain time and place to be tolerant of others, but this just wasn't it.

"Get out," Gaius demanded. "Or I'll beat you up without any remorse."

"Go ahead," Henry taunted, twirling licorice sticks in his hand. "You can kick me out, if you'd like. But you can't stop me from doing  _this._ "

He stuffed three entire licorice strands in his mouth, and smiled evilly as he crushed all of the pastries and pies underneath his feet, jumping and stomping on them like a child throwing a tantrum.

At first the other did not respond. There was an eerie quiet laying between the two of them, one that reminded Henry of darker times and darker places than this. Gaius seemed unaffected, but Henry looked closer to make sure. The Ylissean's stare was dark green and piercing, like the shaded leaves of a forest or the deep ebb of a lagoon. On the surface, the irises were smooth and calm, but Henry could see the lurking animosity and fury that lay underneath.

He knew that no matter how much of Gaius' sweets he ate, nothing could get rid of the bitter taste forming in his mouth.

...

Henry limped around the barracks, trailing blood underneath his feet and leaving behind marks that looked as if some corpse had been moved around the room. His hands, slim and tremulous, were pressed against a bleeding injury, one that was doubly received in his right side. His bangs fell loose as white strands of his hair were tinted red from stray blood smears.

Oh, how badly everything hurt. He truly,  _truly_  detested pain, and his thoughts remained frenzied within him as everything stung with agony _._ His crafted smile dared to falter, but when the worst of it passed, he founds his lips stretching to their fullest.

Who knew that Gaius would get so violent over some sweets?

"Henry?"

The voice was familiar surely enough, but there was still a cloud of doubt in Henry's mind. So he paused for a moment, uncertain as to whether he should confront this person or not. Deciding that he had nothing to lose, The Plegian turned around, and laughed when he saw Ricken standing in the doorway with a look of disbelief.

Or was it a look of fear? The way the other's tawny eyes seemed to widen, the slight stumble in his step and hesitation in the tips of fingers said something else entirely. Maybe the young boy was afraid of Henry in this moment. A twisted, twisted thought tunneled into the Plegian's mind, and he couldn't pretend that he wasn't pleased with such inklings.  _But,_ he caught himself mentally,  _I should probably talk to him. Maybe._

"That's me! Did you forget?" Henry joked, giggling until the sound morphed into a horrible cough. He heaved violently, hacking into his hands as he did so.

Ricken hesitated, but ultimately lurched forward to help his friend. With shaking fingers, he pulled Henry's hand away from his face, and blanched when he saw the dark skin patterned with wet, crimson stains.

He gulped. "What happened to you?"

"Gaius happened."

" _Gaius_ did this to you?"

"At first he just threatened to punch me, but when I ate all his sweets and cursed his arse off, well, you can imagine what he wanted to do after that! Haha!"

"You dummy! Why would you provoke him more in the first place? Gods, you're unbelievable sometimes. Just come with me, then. We gotta get you looked at. I don't wanna say you deserved it, but..."

A small tug of the sleeve was enough to get the dark mage going, and he followed helplessly as his friend lead him out of the barracks, presumably to see a healer. They were silent for a short moment, until Ricken turned around and flicked Henry in the forehead.

"Next time, just don't make things worse." he scolded. "Otherwise I'll think twice about trying to help a trouble maker like you."

"I'm not a trouble maker! Trouble makes itself!"

"Ha," Ricken joked dryly, "spoken like a true  _jerk_."

...

Henry should have been cautious, evasive, or at least apologetic from that point on. He should have vowed never to bother the Ylissean thief ever again, and steered clear of the ginger like he had a holy circle of angels guarding him at all times. Gaius taught him a harsh, painful lesson when it came to messing around with him or his sweets, and that should have been enough to convince Henry to leave him alone.

Instead, it seemed to make Henry want to  _persist_. The thoughts in his head were not those of apologies or amendments, but of diabolical schemes or revenge. One of those schemes worked out so effortlessly, rewarding Henry with the  _crunch_ of a freshly baked pecan pie. The flavor was good, but what was more satisfying was how easily he stole it from Gaius. It was so simple, he wondered if the thief was just dense by nature.

Who in their right mind leaves their food unattended to go inspect a strange sound? Granted, he was not sure if the crows would play their part right, but the din of barrels being pushed over was enough to grab the ginger's attention, and he had left the kitchen to check on it as a result. In the time it took him to leave the room and come back, Henry had stolen both of the pies that were in the oven, and he even left a message in flour on the counter.

_Your move, Honeybuns._

Gaius did not need to go far to find the perpetrator, especially when Henry did not even  _try_ to hide. He was seated on top of the horse and pegasi stables, his legs dangling over the edge of the roof. He was partaking in his prize, the baked goods he stole fresh from under Gaius' nose. There was an arrogance in his movements, and although Henry was sure that he was at least  _mildly_  allergic to nuts, he did not seem to care one bit.

Not even when Gaius stared through the soles of Henry's feet, burning them with eyes that were alight with indignation.

 _Gods damned nuisance,_ he thought bitterly, kicking at a clump of dirt on the ground. "Get down here, Junior!" Gaius yelled, unable to pretend like he was above the other's antics.

"No way, Honeybuns." Henry denied and wagged a finger, as if scolding a child. "This is payback."

"Payback for  _what?_ And stop calling me 'Honeybuns', damn you!"

"Payback for hurting me, obviously! And plus, you give people nicknames  _all the time_ , so it's natural that you get one in return! Don't like it?"

"You cursed me in the first place!" Gaius reminded him. "And I don't like it at all!"

"I only cursed you because you punched me." Henry insisted. "And  _good_ , 'cause I'm gonna keep using it."

"Just get down here, and give me back my pies!"

Henry's smile was like thread, needling its way through the cloth of his honeyed visage. It was so satisfying to mess with the Ylissean the way he was, especially when the other made it so amusing and so easy to keep going. He erupted in erratic giggles, seemingly in an uncontrollable fashion before he got a hold of himself with the bare edges of madness still holding on. " _Okay_ , but you asked for it!"

He dumped the pie tins on Gaius, and watched as the nuts, cream, crust and all fell onto the thief's head in the most disgraceful manner. The metal container itself made a dull thud against Gaius' noggin, and the sound of it was like sweet music to Henry's tone deaf ears.

Tone deaf as he was, Henry's sight was still perfectly fine, and he could tell from the other's smoldering gaze that he was in a  _lot_ of trouble.

 _Bring it on, Gaius_. Henry thought defiantly.  _Catch me if you can._

_..._

Just like the day before, Henry found himself limping around the barracks, his walk hampered by his body's condition. Blood pooled in his sides and on his head, falling over in sticky, saturated streams of dark red. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, and pressed obliquely against his wounded side. The pain was sharp and biting, cutting into his skin so much that it made him want to peel it all off if that was what it took to make the burning stop.

 _You'd think all that sugar would slow him down,_ the boy thought curiously,  _but_   _it's actually the opposite..._

The one to save him from his recklessness was—once again—Ricken. The boy had left his tome in the barracks, and he did not like the idea of leaving his trusted Elwind behind. But he found more than just his spells in there as he quickly yelped, jumping in surprise at his friend's broken and bloodied body dragging itself around like a wounded animal. Henry was a dark yet resplendent figure, eyes staring accusingly at Ricken like  _he_ was the one who hurt him. But his smile offset everything, and he wavered in his friend's presence.

"Hey," Henry greeted casually, "funny I should run into you again."

"Don't 'hey' me, Henry! I told you to stop messing with Gaius, didn't I? What did you do  _this_  time?"

"Well,  _obviously_  I messed with him."

Ricken sighed, and quickly grabbed hold of the other's less injured arm, ignoring the blood that started dripping down the length of his sheer robes. There was a familiarity to this routine that the mage was starting to hate. He let it be known to the older male that he was disapproving in every way possible, and shot him the dirtiest look he could think of giving as a result.

In that moment, Ricken's eyes were like the earth and sky; they were like the ground soil and the darkened clouds on a stormy day. They burned into Henry's eyes, those that were like the sea—deep and foreboding as the unknown waters and the oblivion of a black night—bearing all the energy and distaste that was humanly possible. When their eyes met, it was like lightning that shattered the world around it.

Henry felt vulnerable in every way but one, so he kept silent. Ricken noticed his uncharacteristic pause, and took it upon himself to make the next move. He tapped the other lightly against the head, doing his best to restrain from actually hitting him. "If you don't stop messing around, you'll find out that Gaius isn't nearly as scary as  _I_ am."

The dark mage did not know whether he was truly afraid or not, of it the other's moment of confidence was just impressing him more than anything. He gave in, forfeiting the thoughts that would try to decipher either situation. "Yes, sir!" He happily saluted. "No more messing around with Gaius!"

"You say that," Ricken sighed and averted his eyes, "but I have a feeling that you'll just try again tomorrow."

"If I do, I have a feeling you'll be there for me again, tomorrow." Henry rebounded. "At least, I hope so."

The smaller of the two laughed, and pulled the other along. He seemed more calm now, if not more annoyed. He would rather this conflict sort itself out soon, but until then he supposed that it would not be so bad to help Henry out once in a while. And in that moment of agreement, it was as if the earth and sky conducted the seas, making the waves bend easily underneath their regime. Their gaze was natural, astronomical, but it was broken as the earth turned its head away.

"I don't like to think it, but I feel like you would have been dead from making people so angry if I wasn't there to smooth things over."

"I like to think that you're right," Henry agreed. He kept silent for the rest of the walk to the healer's tent, but he could not help but stare at Ricken. There was a small voice whispering in his ear somewhere, something that told him that if it weren't for Ricken, he'd be dead for entirely different reasons already.


	2. Sticks and Stones

Since the incident between Henry and Gaius, the former was more cautious this time around, and was mischievous enough to ruin the thief's day, but not so intrusive that he warranted another beating or two. In close quarters combat, Henry was more or less defenseless, but Gaius was free game from  _afar._

As such, the Plegian had the opportunity to test out a multitude of new spells and curses, not knowing their true effects and deciding that it was beneficial to find out  _after_ inflicting them on Gaius. It was amusing to watch thief's hair change color, or to see him hurl when eating anything sweet. At other times he would gain new headaches and stomachaches from a lift of a finger. There was one curse in particular that made Gaius temporarily blind, such that he was a sitting duck without his sight and that allowed Henry to swoop in and bother him or hurt him in inconsequential ways.

 _A small price for him to pay, considering he made me bleed!_ Henry thought to himself, smiling in satisfaction.  _He's lucky I don't kill him with a death curse, haha._

Gaius, for all of his pride, decided to hold back on the other when he had the chance. Yet there was more than one occasion in which Gaius broke his calm demeanor, and promptly injured Henry as payback. Whether it was a shallow stab of a knife—or a hard punch to his head—Gaius made sure to even the odds every now and then.

Everyone in camp was aware of their little situation, and many people avoided the two altogether so as to not get caught in their slightly dangerous crossfire. It soon became commonplace for soldiers to check their surroundings before proceeding forward, because they never knew whether they might be hit by a stray curse, or cut with a flying dagger.

The only person that could momentarily placate their anger at each other was Robin, who called them both in for a mission briefing.

"You're serious?" Gaius scoffed and slammed his hand down on the table. He jabbed a thumb in Henry's direction. "You want us to be paired together?"

"I don't see why not," Robin replied, crossing their arms indignantly. "Your childish antics aside, you two would be able to cover each other's weaknesses in battle. And you're lucky you're not on the front lines, anyway."

"Maybe, but Bubbles, this dastard has been nothing but a little shit this whole week, and I'd rather not work with someone like that if I can help it."

"Oho? Are you scared, Honeybuns? All it took was a few tricks to make you give up?" Henry taunted, _tsk_ -ing smugly. "I understand completely! I understand that you're all talk and no walk!"

"Watch your mouth, Junior."

"Stop it," Robin cut in, refusing to see the argument escalate further. "Right now, just stop it. You two are  _soldiers_. The least of your worries should be each other, especially when there's a war to think about. Now, I don't know how you'll do it, but learn to get along or not, it doesn't matter as long as you do what you're told. If you don't carry out your mission properly, I can talk to Chrom to see if there are any _latrine_  duties open for you two. Do you understand?"

Normally, the tactician would not be prone to such harsh methods, but they had little choice, seeing the animosity grow between the thief and the dark mage at a steady rate. Not to mention that they had no real intention of assigning them such mundane work, but instead hoped that the bluff would be enough to convince them to work together.

Judging from the looks on their faces, the message got through enough. Gaius' hunched shoulders relaxed some, the fiery look in his eyes dulling down as he accepted his grim fate. Henry perked up, visibly brightening as the prospect of being with Gaius was something that he wanted from the beginning.

"Yes," they chorused, with obviously different inflections in their tones.

...

The battlefield was a place where enemy alike could band together. It was a place where the heat of combat could make them forget their differences. In battle, the animosity shared between two units was lost as they focused on the opponents, forgetting any hate they harbored for each other—any dislike they had. It was hard to think about such things when you were fighting for your life, anyway.

Even for Gaius and Henry, it seemed that a cooperation between them was possible. After all, latrine duty was the actual pits, and perhaps the detestable company of each other was more desirable than dealing with the other soldiers' shit.

Literally.

And for the most part, Gaius and Henry managed to do what Robin set them up for. They covered each other's weaknesses, making for a deadly duo on the sidelines. Henry was more suited to attacking from afar, and his distance between him and his enemies called for more powerful, slower hits. He could scope the enemy and make a good decision, even helping to pick off a few stray Risen that wandered too close to Gaius.

Gaius, as a result, was more of the close-combat type, even if his fighting style was more evasive than anything. No matter how low his defense was, if a hit could not land than it was all over. He outmaneuvered his opponents, who were incredibly clumsy and inaccurate at times (he supposed being dead did that to a person), and landed decisive blows that—while lacking in physical power—made up in deadliness.

He made sure that none of those pesky zombies made their way to Henry, as much as he liked the idea of the Plegian screaming for help.

And leave it to the said Plegian to break the silence, and cut the stagnant air with his lilting voice.

"Too bad, Honeybuns, that you can't attack from afar! One day, a bunch of mages will  _blow_  your entire head off your body, and set the rest of ya on fire!"

The white-haired male cackled, casting Ruin on a few undead fighters in the distance. They were not even close to scraping either of the males with their axes, but their very presence irritated Henry, and he had no qualms about killing something a second time.

They screeched, their voices one of the few human qualities they had left. Their bodies were amusing to look at, as they slumped over in motionless yet awkward positions.  _How funny,_  Henry thought,  _should I take an arm or a leg this time?_

While the dark mage was ripping off appendages from cadavers, Gaius was busy cutting down some undead pegasi and their riders, not speaking until the mighty beasts fell down in a quick stupor.

"Heh, I could say the same about you, you know. Magic's good and all, but when it gets down to it, there's some things that magic can't do. Like this, for instance." To make his point, Gaius cut through a Risen or two cleanly, his steel sword like hot metal slicing through butter. When the unearthly heads rolled off their dead bodies, the thief was satisfied with his work, and looked towards the other for a reaction.

Henry laughed, something he loved to do, and cast more spells on incoming foes. "Nothing is magic-resistant! Unlike your itty bitty knives, magic doesn't cut skin deep. It can touch you, right down  _here!_ " To make an example of his tirade, he shot a bolt of Arcthunder through the heart of a Risen—bright yellow and white electricity crackling like a whip. Its motions were a death knell, and the undead soldier fell down in a useless groan, keeling over at last.

This need to one-up each other intensified as the two males tried to spite each other by purposely avoiding enemies which allowed each other to get hurt, consequently. Henry could have easily killed that dark mage, but instead he let it scorch off the ends of Gaius' cape and the back of his legs with a simple Elfire spell. And Gaius, in return, could have offed one of the fighter Risen, but instead he let the dead man encroach Henry and deck the Plegian boy in the side of his head. Henry yelped and fell down, but quickly and angrily set the offender on fire.

It got to the point where they might as well have killed each other, to save the trouble of the Risen doing it.

And they immediately started to regret their decisions, once their little tricks had gone too far. The enemies started multiplying before them, and the hits they were taking out of sheer recklessness set them back, and made the Risen much more powerful in their eyes.

 _Oh, death. I never thought I'd see it come because of some stupid sweets, though._ His mind was not bitter about this idea, only surprised.

Still, he had no time to mess around. Henry tightened his grasp around his tomes, feeling their pulsating energy in his fingertips. Even if it would mean burning through all his spells, he would do it if it would eradicate the hoard before him. He would show them, and Gaius, that magic could do  _anything_.

Even if his spells were not being as effective as he wanted them to. The magic itself was potent and powerful, but his aim was poor as his body weakened due to the damage he had sustained. As a result, his casting suffered and his attacks missed altogether. After all, magic is directly linked it its user's body and soul, and without a strong determination, the power would run astray and deign itself useless in a time where Henry needed to use it the most. His pure heart and blank soul could only engineer the strength of magic for so long.

And, funny enough, dark mages like Henry were often praised for their higher defense in comparison to their other mages. So even if his attacks missed here or there, he could tolerate it because it would take more than a clumsy swing of an ax or a sword to bring him down. It would take at least  _several_ swings.

He took a step back from it all and assessed the situation. He had brought four books in all: an Arcthunder, Arcfire, Elfire, and Nosferatu. He had burned through the first two like it was nothing, and once his Nosferatu was gone (because there were fewer pages in it than the Elfire), all he would have left would be a simple spell that could not satisfy its job of wiping out the remaining set of enemies.

While this dangerous statistic lay in his mind, he focused on the carnage he  _could_ cause. He started out with Nosferatu, one of the spells with the prettier bindings. It was dark magic, so only someone as unholy as he was could cast it. Pale fingers drifted slowly over the dark violet cover, and the silver engravings seemed to glow and hum underneath its touch.

Nosferatu was, by far, Henry's favorite spell. It had a beautifully wicked quality that gave lost life back to its user and that drained the enemy of energy whilst bolstering his own health. The beauty of it also lied in its limitations, and without thinking, the dark mage burned through every last page in the tome.

It did its job, at the very least. The onslaught of Risen was lessened considerably, but the approaching hoard of enemies was not comforting in the least. With only an Elfire left at his disposal, the Plegian realized they had to make a quick getaway, before he and Gaius joined the battlefield as bodily decorations.

It occurred to Henry that he had disregarded his partner for too long, as well. Hopefully Gaius did not die the horrible death like Henry joked he would, but whether or not he was still alive and breathing was nearly impossible to tell from his angle. Henry bounded across the field, dodging the dead bodies and splattered blood, wondering if his own crimson was mixed in there somewhere. Or if Gaius' blood was there.

He fought the urge to take the dead limbs as his trophies. Instead, he focused all of his thoughts on his ally. And when Henry found him, everything was as he feared it would be.

Gaius was surrounded by the last group of Risen, a half of dozen dark mages with Nosferatu tomes. Their bleak, dead forms hung like fog as they circled the thief who lay hindered and wounded on the ground like encroached prey. Through the gaps in their formation, Henry could see the true fear etched on Gaius' face; he could see the doubt and darkness that pulled densely at his handsome features. He could see the cloud of worry that clung onto Gaius' form, making him nearly tremulous in the wake of his enemies.

Henry saw them closing in on him, and at that rate the Ylissean would be but a forgotten memory, another casualty in their long battle of war.

How many of Henry's former Plegian allies had faced the same fate? How many of his once-fellow soldiers, confidants, and comrades have fallen to the sheer numbers of the enemy? Granted, Henry never cared for those people to begin with. Past the bloodshed and Risen collecting he didn't particularly care whose banner flew overhead. He definitely did not trifle himself with their families, hopes, and aspirations any more than he had to. When their time came, he never thought twice about never seeing them again; he never lamented at the thought of not ever hearing their voices once more.

But Gaius' voice among others would soon be lost in a sea of Risen screams, and his eyes would never live to glare daggers into Henry's face again. There would be no pecan pies or sharp knives if Gaius died—there would be nothing left of him except the image of his life being drained away until it was a husk of its former self.

Henry had to do something. Anything.

His bones were screaming in pain but he ignored them. Without a second thought, Henry shot spheres of Elfire in their general direction, burning the backsides of the undead in an attempt to divert their attention away from the injured thief. The said thief was surprised that he was still alive, eyes wide as his enemies turned their back on him in order to face Henry, instead.

Henry met Gaius' gaze, dark violet connecting with the deep green. In that moment, Henry felt like he understood Gaius more than ever before, and called out to him with a playful leer.

"What's the matter, Honeybuns?" He yelled. "Tired already?"

His answer did not come as quickly as he would have liked, but it was unsurprising seeing as his focus was divided by the dark mages. He cast Elfire at them with an angry vengeance. Their groans signified their displeasure, but their movements were surprisingly lively as they teemed up on Henry. The dark mage did his best, but he could only have brought down four of six enemies  _just_  as the last page of Elfire slipped out from the empty binding.

Now he was completely defenseless, and his heart ached hollowly in his chest. The Risen were fair enough to start the assault right away, pounding down on Henry's weakened body without any hesitation. With each blast of the opposing Nosferatu spell, there was a numbing sensation that started to grow heavily within him—one that slowed his breathing and paralyzed his limbs at a gradual rate.

It was not before long when the dark mage was cornered, his back pressed into a large oak tree that he did not notice earlier, while his front faced the last of the pesky Risen. One look into their glowing hands said it all.

 _This is it,_  Henry thought,  _well, it was fun while it lasted._

In this moment, there was only one thing that Henry could do.  _Smile_. Smile, and hope that the expression never fades. The smile which was so blatantly forced, so sadly construed, hung on his face like a damaged decoration, threatening to break entirely underneath the weight of sorrow and regret.

Gods, he wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. But he never really understood what it meant to do either of those things, so he just kept smiling.

The gesture became brighter at some point. Perhaps it was when he heard the righteous sound of metal cutting clean through rotted flesh, or when he saw the mages fall into dismembered pieces in front of him. Maybe his smile became stronger when he felt the cold spray of blood—as well as the lasting remnants of magic—spatter on his face.

His smile became real when he saw Gaius' injured, ragged figure standing across from him, a heavily stained sword in his right hand. The very sword that made mince meat of Henry's would-be killers, the same sword that Henry was sure could not pierce through magic.

Funny how that works.

"What's the matter, Junior?" Gaius echoed his previous words back at him and grinned. "Tired already?"

"You got me," Henry muttered, dropping to his knees. His vision shook violently as it started fading to black.

The last thing Henry felt was the soft surface of bloodied grass, and his limp hands unfurling from the empty Elfire tome. When that happened, it was all too easy for him, and he succumbed to the darkness of slumber.


	3. Breaks and Bones

Shortly thereafter, the battle ended. The fields were drenched in blood and guts, and it smelled saccharine and sickening all at once. The noise had settled, however, and there was not much left in the way of enemies.

As this was established, Gaius' memory hazed over, and his body—bedraggled and beaten in every sense—moved like a slow working machine. His limbs were monotonous, awkwardly bent but somehow moving swiftly enough to warrant efficiency.

His head was null of thought. There was nothing there except the void which begged for sleep and rest. He could not give in, however badly he may want to. With an incapacitated Henry at his side, he had to stay awake for  _both_ of them. The trek back to the Shepherds' camp was miles away, and the sun was already setting behind them. If he faltered now in any way possible, they would be doomed for sure.

Wordlessly, Gaius picked up the dark mage, and struggled to balance his weight on his back. Gaius adjusted him as well as he could so that Henry's body was propped upon his back behind him—arms snaking around the boy's legs to keep him up. A head full of white hair fell onto the thief's neck and shoulders, but he ignored the itching feeling, as well as the pressure of the extra weight on his body.

In doing this, the Ylissean had to leave his sack of thievery behind. It was full of necessary weapons and candy among other things, but it would be impossible to carry both the bag and Henry simultaneously. For Gaius, there was only time to grab a new sword to put on his holster, as well as a couple of mints. Everything else in there, keepsakes and all, were left behind. And as much as it irked Gaius to leave his belongings, he had to ignore them for now, and focus on walking the uncertain path home, instead.

All was silent once he left the scene, and the only thing that assured him that he was even still alive was the sound of Henry's dull heartbeat against his back, and the soft breathing that escaped through his nose.

...

Time passed. Gaius did not notice, but the orange colors in the sky faded to a deep purple, and then blacked out entirely. The clouds rolled in at some point afterward, with only obscure moonlight shining through the thick, gray mass. Each step forward was like walking through coals, but Gaius had no choice but to disregard the profuse burning sensation in his calves, as well as the shaking motions that otherwise threatened to topple him over.

He had to ignore, ignore,  _ignore._ Because if he lost even a  _second_  to his pain, he would crumple over like a paper doll.

By some miracle in and of itself, Gaius eventually stumbled off of the forest path, and found the surface of the hard stone road underneath his feet. The towering trees were lost as a clearing came into view. The moonlight which guided them was lackluster compared to the glow of torches and campfires.

Up ahead was the Shepherds' camp, with tents lined up like a beige row of eggs. Further out was someone running to meet him, and judging from the frantic voice he guessed it was Robin. Anything the tactician was saying was lost, however, as Gaius slowly forced himself to keep walking and ignored everything else as his feet dragged on listlessly.

It was to no avail as he felt one last shock of warmth spike through his legs before he fell over—face first—into the stone cold ground.

He was unconscious.

...

_Dark figures surround him. Blood leaks from his nose and from a freshly cut wound on his face. He throws another punch, but his fist meets the wall and he hears his knuckles crack open. There is a loud ruckus surrounding him, one that sounds like screaming and laughing and smells like blood and iron. Larger hands than his hold his own arms behind him, and there is a taunting voice in his ear._

_"Snitch, that's what you get. Goody two shoes. Couldn't have the guts to betray that dastard, well look where it fuckin' got you." The voice is rough, and tears holes in his ears as he grinds on his teeth. "Listen, kid. In this world you ain't got nothin' but your own hide. You have your blood, sweat, and tears. But maybe you don't even have_ that.  _Ha." They release his arms, and shove his face into the wall. It hurts, and he swears that he feels his face breaking into tiny pieces. It mortifies him to know that he's still in one piece._

_Then, before he can save himself, they make it cruel again. They push the sleeve of his shirt upward_ _—ever so upward—to reveal a black, hideous mark. It is less of a tattoo and more of a brand. It is a smear on an otherwise unmarked body. It is an everlasting reminder of his mistakes._

_Of his sins._

_He bites his tongue back. Those voices taunt him again, and pull at his hair. They claw at him, drawing blood and demanding more from each drop. They love the smell of fresh meat, don't they? They must for they are relentless. When he feels like he is nothing but bones left, that harsh voice from before comes to him once more._

_"Remember this. Remember the burdens you carry on your back. Let it break your spine in half, you half wit. Let it break you to pieces. Mark my words, Gaius, you'll wish that you died in this gods-forsaken cell. Do you understand, Gaius? Do you hear me?"_

_"Gaius...?"_

"Gaius...?"

The ginger stirred, voices of dreams' past ringing in his mind but then fading away. He felt a gentle hand touch his own, and realized the clammy sweat he was building up in his palms. Their voice was calm, familiar, and comforting. He knew he had to get up, but it was so hard to do so. He started with his eyes that felt as if they were glued shut. When he got them open, tears of exhaustion fell and a stinging pain made him feel like they salted his goddamn corneas. Still, Gaius knew better, and realized this was all a side effect of injury and sickness. He sat up with great difficulty.

The slightest shift in his movements made his legs burn up like  _hellfire,_ and a sharp, spiky pain coursed through his very bones. The more he tried to adjust, the more he made it worse. It was uncomfortable and uncontrollable, and Gaius cried out when he felt something on him loosen.

"I think you just undid your bandages," the voice said. Gaius' eyes were shut in agony once more, but he managed to recognize the voice this time around.

_Robin?_

"No kidding," he said dryly. "Gods,  _damn,_ this hurts."

"Sorry. I'll reapply them."

"Please," the thief muttered under his breath. "What even happened...?"

"The Risen, I suppose?" Robin offered sadly. "I was foolish to send the two of you out there. Look what happened," And Gaius opened his eyes again. He saw them gently unwrap the loosened bandages, revealing a scarlet brand of flesh which burnt and bled with too much ease. It caused a strange and simultaneous feeling of warmth and cold within him, and seeing the injury in full made Gaius shudder.

"Bubbles, that's not your fault, y'know. Henry and I, we—"

"—You can tell me about it  _later._  Now, Gaius, this is going to hurt." Robin said truthfully, looking into the other's eyes with a sincere, earthy stare. "Please brace yourself."

Gaius watched as the other took out a tub of medicine and slathered some of the burn cream on their hands. It smelled of alcohol and licorice. He vaguely wished he had some licorice—or any sweet—with him right now. It would make this process ten times better in his mind.

"Ready?" They asked.

"Bubbles, you're killin' me." He groaned. "Just do it already, it's  _fine_."

"Alright, then. Here goes."

They were moving as quickly as possible, making sure to smother the raw injury with the remedy. Gaius had every urge to scream or thrash, because the healing substance felt like acid against his fresh wounds, and the texture of it clung to him like fat. It was only through his incredible self-control that he was able to hold himself back, although he could not resist a quiet yelp or two.

Each continuing second was another one spent in pain. He supposed that he would be grateful for it soon, and sighed out when Robin finished applying the medicine, and started wrapping his legs up in fresh, new bandages instead. He felt immediate relief.

Robin seemed impressed. "You didn't scream."

"You thought I would?" He quirked an eyebrow up, half-curious and half-offended.

"You looked like you wanted to." They were honest, but not embarrassed as they maintained eye contact.

Gaius chuckled in spite of himself, and shook his head from side to side. "I  _really_  wanted to. It felt like you were branding me, Bubbles. What kind of medicine is  _that,_ anyway?"

"A new salve recently made by the army's doctors. It hurts, but it's fast acting, and it saves us the trouble of spending more staves."

"How fast is 'fast-acting', really?"

"That depends. Could you try to bend your legs again?"

He stared at his legs, worried they would recoil in agony like before, but was pleasantly surprised when they stretched out without so much as a  _sting_ of pain.

Gaius smiled, and started shaking his legs back and forth. "Wow, this stuff really works. Before it hurt just to _touch them_."

"See? Medicine works wonders, or so I'm told. But it's getting late now, so you should probably get back to sleep." They appeared sheepish suddenly. "I was more worried than anything, so that's why I woke you up."

"You worry too much," he insisted, "but alright." Gaius lowered his head, and tried to relax in his cot as much as possible. His gaze fell to his arm where he noticed a multitude of bandages along its length, including gauze wrapped around where his mark should be.

His  _criminal_ mark.

"Bubbles, wait."

The tactician paused mid-step, and turned to look back at their friend. "Yes?"

"Did anyone see it? My mark, I mean..."

"Oh,  _that._ No, of course not.  _I_ put those bandages there. I told Maribelle not to touch it, either. Don't worry, Gaius. I haven't forgotten my promise to keep your secret."

"Thanks, Bubbles. That means a lot to me, really. But you said 'Maribelle'. Twinkles is coming by?"

"Yes, of course. She was the one that was taking care of you while you were out. She also recommended that new salve for treatment in the first place."

Gaius scoffed.  _Of course_ Maribelle would suggest the most painful remedy her noble little mind she could think of. For the grievances that the thief caused her in the past, he supposed some back-biting medical treatment was of little price to pay. Although he still felt that he shouldn't have paid it in the first place. As such, he did nothing to hide his displeasure.

"I wouldn't put it past her."

"Be nice to her, okay? I am aware you have your differences, but that seems to be a common occurrence with you."

There was a derisive snort heard, and the thief rolled his eyes. "What is  _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Naturally, not everyone can get along. You and Maribelle have your obvious differences, but more evident was the earlier conflict between you and Henry."

 _Henry._ His name alone made the thief irritated, even if it was their petty fight that caused their downfall in the first place. But he supposed that he was not the only one who got hurt in that incident, and that somewhere across the camp, the dark mage was going through the exact same thing.

 _So I'll cut him some slack,_ Gaius decided mentally,  _for now._

"Was it really that obvious?"

"Ricken told me that you beat him within an inch of his life, but that he had done some pretty nasty things to you, too."

" _Nasty_ doesn't cut it. That kid tried to kill me multiple times, you know."

"You can tell me all about it tomorrow, Gaius." Robin sighed, then turned their back on him. "Get some rest, okay?"

"Okay, fine. But as soon as I'm well, you've gotta hear me out. That damned guy is a menace, I tell you."

Robin chuckled, and dragged their feet as they opened the flaps of the tent. Through the visible space, Gaius could see the velvety sky, dyed a royal blue and decorated with stars that shined like pearls. Reflected in that sky was the endless possibilities of tomorrow and the hopeful wishes of today.

He wondered if it would even matter to wish on it, or if his wish could be heard from his small tent. But Robin's silhouette was entirely regal, what with their robes flying out behind them and their milk white hair being tousled by late night wind. And in that moment, the tactician was put in front of a fitting backdrop of the sky, the camp, and the air.

Just looking at them was enough to make Gaius almost believe that he could put all of this behind him, that their words were enough to reassure him that tomorrow was still bright. Maybe it was.

"Like I said, I'll listen to you when I can. But don't forget, Gaius."

They turned around, dark eyes glinting with a strange sort of wisdom, lips curling into a smile that brought about an uneasy trust.

"There's two sides to a story."

_..._

There was a slow, methodical sound of blood dripping down. Henry knew that sound oh-so very well. He had caused that sound to happen on himself and many others. From red ribbon marks on his own skin, to jagged gashed lines on an enemy's skin, he knew it all. To think he would be given the pleasure to hear it again was so delightful, he almost forgot why he heard that noise to begin with.

It was the fight. A silly, silly fight caused by something that could have been dropped, but was instead fueled by Henry's mad fire. Had he the senses a normal person should have he wouldn't have worsened something that was already bad to begin with. And usually he was so good at fulfilling orders, too. For as long as he could murder, soil, and toil it didn't matter what he had to put up with.

But this time it was different. He was captivated by Gaius' displeasure—he was intrigued by the havoc he could cause. It was a dark interest, for sure, but it received its rightful punishment in the form of near death.

Although he loved death, he felt that it was cruel. It was cruel that he should face it and incite it so many times but never get to actually die himself. Perhaps now would be the time. Perhaps now, in the void of his mind, he could perish and wither away cleanly like he always wanted.

Just maybe it could happen.

But instead, he feels incredibly warm. He feels the beating heart of someone else—for his heart was too weak to make such noise—beneath him. He could feel his legs dangle and the air rush between his feet. He could hear the sounds of monotonous footsteps fading in the distance.

He could hear Ricken screaming his name, and could detect his rushed footsteps in his directions. He mustered a wide, meaningless smile and tried to hold it somewhere that could be seen.

Then he faded further away, beyond black into something more transparent. Something colorless.

...

_He is scared. They always scare him like this. They bring down ragged hands and broken bottles upon his skin like hail, and his sensitive body displays the colors of it all like a mural. Yellow, blue, violet bruises to match the crimson, black, bloody gashes. Pure white ivory of bone to match the spotted blackening of a heart. Those are the colors of his body, the bearer of his life._

_Eyes stare down at him, eyes that he never remembers the color or shape of. But he always remembers the intensity in those eyes, such that he can not stare any longer without catching fire. They are hateful, rueful eyes that want his existence to be wiped clean on the ledger of life._

_His parents' eyes._

_"You're worthless," the higher voice of the two assures him of his status by stamping their foot into his back, smothering his body into the floor with each step. "You're worthless and useless and everything else with a less. You are_ less. _"_

_"You sick, twisted boy." the deeper voice of the two adds on extra insult to injury. "We are sending you away. Far away. Where the wretched likes of you can rot in harmony. Rot, rot, rot."_

_He feels a hand this time, one that grabs him by the scruff of his neck and forces his small body to dangle in the air. He meets those intense, forgettable eyes in a heated stare. He feels transparent and vulnerable and can smell his own fear radiating off of him like a flash flare. The parents do not care. They are cruel and incite this cruelty further than they can even understand. He feels a cool, long, sharp fingernail dig into his cheek and run down. They are drawing blood from him methodically, like a practiced surgeon._

_As if they ever saved a life other than their own._

_"Do you hear me, Henry? May your life ever be miserable. No one could love a monstrous child like you. No one will love you, Henry. Do you understand me, Henry?"_

_"Henry..."_

"Henry..."

A soft voice called out to him, acting as the beacon of light in the sea of his mind. And yet, even with such clarity reaching for him, he still felt ambiguity climb up his ankles, snake up his legs and dig itself into his core. The sluggish slumber was far more inviting than the shores of the awakened. He planned to stay afloat in the gray waters—he wanted nothing of that colorful world.

"Henry, please..."

The beacon was shaking, its light shimmering in the far off distance. It was pleading with him, somehow, but he was never one for reason.  _Go away,_ Henry wanted to say.  _I'm sleeping, can't you see? Don't you know it's rude to try and wake up monsters?_

But none of those words reached the surface, or even floated off from their stagnant roots. Those words were poison, laced with a lethal truth and disparate lie. Henry felt it suffocating him, the entrails of his own despair and pettiness rising to choke him, to hurt him.

_You don't love me, you liar. Stay away._

"Henry, wake up!"

The voice could beg all it wanted. Henry did not move in the slightest. There was no use in trying to wake him, anyway. At least, not when his very being was being drugged and dragged to a world where sleep invited broken memories and lost promises. Not when he could feel the Plegian blood inside of him boil and dare to spew hate and self-sacrificial animosity.

 _Grima, devour me whole._ He pleaded within him.  _I don't know what this is anymore._

"In five minutes," he slurred outwardly, "I promise."

And he delved into the dark again, losing all but himself in the unconscious.


	4. Games and Grabs

Henry started to awake. He could feel the dry consciousness of his inner mind starting up, igniting like a crucial spark in the machine. First to come alive was his sense of smell, and the distinct odor of disinfectant came to assault him. He cringed at this discovery, and haphazardly flailed within the cot until he could hide his face in his pillow.

After his sense of smell came his sense of touch. The pillow he stuffed his face in was soft, to the point where he felt like he was sinking into it. The low  _squish_ noises that resulted from the contact made Henry somewhat uneasy. He found it hard to breathe after realizing that the pillow was rather suffocating, and he turned around in bed once more to free his breath.

The other senses seemed to come back simultaneously, and when Henry opened his eyes to test this, he was shocked to see another pair of irises shining down on him. They were a rather endearing set of eyes, too. They were wide in shape, framed with lashes that were not long but thick instead, and kind of perky—the color of the irises themselves were a pleasant, delicate shade of blue-gray. On any other day he might not have been so frightened, but it didn't register in his mind that someone else could be there, so immediate fear took hold of him and didn't let go.

He screamed.

The other person was just as surprised as the dark mage was, and screeched loudly in tandem. They stumbled backward and nearly fell on their backside, whilst Henry rose from his cot and threw his arms around wildly. The screams stopped after several seconds or so, before either of them realized what had happened.

 _Oh Grima,_ Henry thought,  _what was that?_

"Henry!" The voice protested. There was a familiar high pitched lilt to it, together with an airy insistence that—despite being caught off guard—she was  _not_ delicate. Yes, Princess Lissa of Ylisse remained before Henry of Plegia as plain as the day, doe-like eyes rounded with fear-turning-into-annoyance. He nearly forgot she was a healer, and cursed himself for his own foolishness.

But that was as far as he would go to reprimand himself in the moment, and he quickly replaced his shocked expression with an empty smile. "Lissa! Glad you still remember me."

"You dolt!" She reached forward and mock-slapped him, the force in her hand evident but restrained as she realized he was still recovering from his injuries. He was thankful for that because otherwise she might have actually managed to hurt him. "Why did you scream like that? I really had a fright 'cause of you!"

"I screamed because you were, um, three inches away from my face? Creepy much?" He joked with her, knowing that the not-delicate princess was not creepy in the least. She knew this, too, and breathed out indignantly because of it.

"I was making sure you were  _okay_. You looked, I don't know, like you were pained or something. Which was weird since you were fine on my shift last night, but whatever! What's done is done," Lissa insisted, straightening out her clothes and making sure the bird-cage frame of her dress was still in tact. Finding everything in order, she gave a very distinct look of disapproval towards Henry.

"And hey, I was in charge of fixing you up so you have no right to criticize me! Sheesh, I stayed up late because of you."

"Sorry! It was totally my fault that I nearly died, but I had no idea it would inconvenience you." He said simply, not even in an accusing way which was what irked Lissa the most. She didn't find it appropriate to say something in response, so she quickly changed subjects.

"Like I said, what's done is done. You must have recovered well enough to scream like  _that,_ anyway. So get up, already!"

The order was direct, and Henry felt no reason to disobey. He swung his legs over the side of his cot, and stretched his arms upward. He rotated his wrists, and giggled at the satisfying  _cracks_ he heard. Lissa flinched at their loudness, but said nothing as Henry proceeded to crack his knuckles, knees, and even his neck. Her face interpreted her distaste for her, instead.

"Are you done yet?"

"Hey, gimme a break! I just woke up~" Despite saying this, Henry was quick to stand up, and was pleasantly surprised in finding that he had no trouble doing so. He smiled widely at the princess. "I feel as good as Risen, haha!"

"That's a bad analogy," Lissa asserted, "but alright. I'm glad you feel better, then. So let's get some lunch from the mess hall to celebrate, okay?" Her countenance lifted itself, revealing the brightness of her youth in the corners of her eyes and the rounds of her cheeks. It was as if the cranky monster (Henry laughed at imagining her in this way) from before had disappeared, replaced by the sprightly girl that was there all along. While desperately wanting to make some comment to irk her, Henry controlled himself again and let her words slide off his ears like oil.

"Sure, why not—wait, it's lunch already? Jeez, I was out for a while!"

"I'll say! So come on, Henry!" She dragged him by the hand, and pushed the flaps of the tent open with her free arm. "Don't be so slow, now! Early bird gets the worm and whatnot."

"It's mess hall food," he pointed out, "what's the rush in getting there first?"

"Because," Lissa began, a mischievous lilt appearing in her voice, " _Cordelia_ is on cooking duty this morning."

Wordlessly, Henry picked up his pace, and promptly laughed at Lissa who was yelling for him to slow down. "Slow down?" He asked as they zoomed by the rest of the Shepherds, "If Cordelia's cooking I'm gonna eat myself into a coma!"

...

The mess hall was as it always had been—loud, rowdy, yet  _welcoming._ The noise of laughter, eating, and talking filled the air with a certain warmth that chased away the chills settling in Henry's spine. Perhaps it was the close proximity of it all, but the long tables were full of different people. Soldiers, healers, and others enlisted in the army all got the same treatment as they ate in uniformed rows of the same food. It all tasted gray and tasteless depending on who was cooking it, but the pegasus knight Cordelia was on duty and anyone that was  _anyone_ knew what she was capable of.

Perhaps that's why things seemed more cheerful to Henry. No one was glaring or complaining about the breakfast. Everyone seemed in high moods, even the most grumpiest or sternest of the bunch. And that, in and of itself, was a vast improvement to how things usually were.

When Henry first joined the Shepherds, he received more than his fair share of hardships. Many shot him dirty looks and even some physical harm, while others settled for verbal attacks on his Plegian heritage or dark magic roots. They called him a traitor despite his treachery being toward his home country and not Ylisse. Those were rather unpleasant days, but Henry let the pain of it all reflect off his back and slough off his shoulders. It made him all the better for it, and it was relieving once the negativity stopped and people saw him for what he truly is.

They treated him like one of their own, so what might have seemed like a daunting task (finding somewhere to sit, that is) in the past was now something simple and easy. Lissa, his compatriot and healer, offered him to sit with her and Maribelle. He declined the offer politely, and walked down the aisles precariously. Some friendly voices and faces cajoled him to join but he refused. Even Ricken, who seemed preoccupied in telling an animated story to the mercenary Gregor, eyed Henry in a way that signaled his desire for the other to sit with him.

But Henry simply gave a dismissive wave of hand and kept walking. He had a specific goal in mind, and that goal was situated at the far end of the mess hall. The dark mage narrowly escaped being decked in the face by an overzealous Vaike (who was telling some untruthful, wild story) and barely dodged the scornful eye (and curse) of his fellow Plegian, Tharja.

By the time he got to his destination, the person seated there was more surprised and breathless than he was. Dark, earthen eyes looked up incredulously, and their owner spoke with a matching tone.

"Junior? Whattaya want?"

"I'm gonna sit here!" He insisted, and took a dramatic, swooping motion as he plopped himself down closer to Gaius. "And you can't stop me."

"I wasn't going to," Gaius rebuked, "but that's awfully gutsy of you considering what we've been through."

"Maybe. I quite like guts, myself." It wasn't the clearest of answers, but somehow Gaius understood what he meant. The thief was almost impressed with the other's gall, such that the expected hostility in his visage disappeared. Instead, he took a huff, and gestured to the plain fellows sitting next and across from him.

"Well, like what you like, but unless you plan on joinin' us I suggest you get up to let another square take your spot. This is a bit of gambling, y'see. I plan on making bank to cover my losses from the other day." As if to accentuate his point, Gaius started expertly shuffling the cards in his hand. They moved at an impressive pace, disappearing behind each other as he practically threw them from one hand to the next. In those seconds, Henry could notice their appearance: black in color, worn out all over, slightly torn edges but still somehow elegant.

He never took Gaius for a gambling sorts, but then again he didn't know the thief well apart from his love of sweets and his rugged personality. To know that there was something more interesting to him such as this was rather satisfying. Henry smiled, and took some gold coin from within his sleeves. He placed it on the table carefully, and drummed his bony fingers along the edge. "Are you kidding? Of  _course_ I'm playing!"

There was an awkward shift in demeanor across the table, but Gaius was unchanged in his movements and expressions. He shook his head slightly and kept on a rather amused smile. "Fine, it's your loss more than anything. Lemme deal the cards." He pushed a mostly-eaten bowl of soup aside, and started passing out the cards to each person. His hands were deft and unwavering, and Henry sort of admired the dexterity that Gaius possessed.

Henry waited for someone else to make a move, and seeing the others grab their cards hungrily and pressing them close to their chests made him follow suit. He gathered his pile and examined each one. The numbers repeated themselves in his mind in order, like a mantra that followed its way out of Henry's mind and into his mouth. Small, muttered breaths recited the card values and he was thankful enough that no one else seemed to hear him.

Gaius himself was pleased with his work, and after a knowing eye he elbowed Henry rather harshly in the side. "Listen here, Junior, if there's any rules around here it's that you can't use magic. No curses, spells, hexes, whatever. It ain't fair for the rest of us."

"It's not  _my fault_ if you dullards can't tell magic from your mud pies, heh heh!" A nasty glare from Gaius made him change directions quickly. "But fine, no gimmicks. I don't need those to win anyway."

"We'll see about that," Gaius insisted, "we were gonna play poker at first but now we're one too many. How does some good, old fashioned  _bullshit_ sound to you fellas?" The riff raff responded in kind, with raucous cheers and loud thumps of the table with their fists and mugs. Henry felt some measure of nervousness, but realized it was mostly mystery in regard to the kind of game they would be playing. The most knowledge he had with these sort of festivities were to trivial games like Go Fish. And other cards that he sometimes dealt with were of the tarot variety, and not playing cards such as these.

Quite frankly, he was at the mercy of the players, which was something rather brutish from what he gleaned at the table. He nearly got a tall cup of wine spilled on him from the vibrations of their banter. He pushed the glass further inside, nearly distracting himself from the rest of the events happening around him.

Gaius' low voice resonated beside him, and it brought him back to the matter at hand. "You know how to play this game, Junior?"

"Just as much as you know how to cast a spell, Honeybuns." The retort felt swift and clean as it flew off of Henry's tongue with deadly accuracy, and one of the other players couldn't help but choke back a genuine laugh.

"It's so easy that any half-brain could get it on the first try." Gaius reassured, smiling in spite of himself. "Why don't you go  _last?_ I'll start things up and by the time it gets around to you, you'll already get the hang of it."

"If you say so," Henry complied, but a notch of anxiety turned up within him. "Then go ahead, half brain. Show me how it's done."

"We're supposed to bet first, of course. It's a little different from poker or anything you might be used to, so I'll be quick on the rundown. Bet a small amount to begin with, and it doubles each turn you're still in. Every time someone loses or gets out the round will benefit you, y'see? Of course that makes it risky because the longer you're in, the more money you'll owe. In the end there's only one winner, too." A wry smile appeared on the thief's face. "Look no further 'cause that'll be me. 'Sides, they don't call me 'Gaius the Nimble' for nothing."

"I'm sure they do, actually." Henry quickly rebutted, and giggled despite the situation. "But I already placed some down. How's twenty of these babies to start off with? That's small."

"Small it is, you're right about that." Gaius quickly dropped his own amount into the pot. His movements incited action from the other soldiers, who coughed in their change in a chaotic, orderly fashion. By the end of it the center of the table was lightly decorated with the money, and Henry felt his heart weakly race in anticipation for the small riches.

No matter who you were in this day and age, money benefit anyone. Henry could buy quite a pretty spell book with those winnings, or even a new cloak or medium to help facilitate rituals and spell casting of the like. The thought of it made him giddy, and he barely paid attention to the game when it was his turn.

"You're on five, Junior."

"Two fives~" He said, placing down two unknown cards on top of the stack. He had a good idea what this all was—a game of bluffs and nothing more—and smiled in knowing that the game was much easier than Gaius made it seem. The latter noticed this, and was quiet as he let his turn pass by. Everyone eyed Henry closely, as if the scrutiny would help them see through some unknown magical force. But the dark mage had kept his promise and he did  _not_ cast anything at the moment. No curse or hex was in place, although it was quite pleasing for him to see the paranoia set in early.

The game continued and some of the others lost their way into the round already. Gaius was cruel and merciless when it came to seeing through them, and every time someone would lose they garnered all the cards that had accumulated up to that point (something bad considering the object of the game was to lose all the cards in one's hand), and their winnings fell accordingly. If they were truly unfortunate they would actually start  _owing_  money, and Henry just desperately hoped that he wouldn't fall to that.

...

Several rounds of the game passed by. It was like a lull in the sea, for they started out rather wildly but became tame at some point. The quiet was so intense that Henry wondered if he was  _breathing_ too loudly. Then the game picked up again as shouts of frustration and happy cheers filled the air. They ate through dishes and dishes of food and at some point, Cordelia herself made an appearance to scold their laziness. She warned them that they would have to clean up the mess hall if they stayed any longer than was necessary.

"Really, Cordi?" One of the guys gawked at her. "Vaike and his stupid ass has been telling fake stories and arm wrestling those clods for ages now. And Anna is one hundred percent swindling the green horns outta their hard-earned bullions. Why're you coming down on us like this?"

"Because frankly," she said, "I expect more out of you lot than I do out of Vaike or Anna. They are quite set in their ways but seeing as most of you are thieves, you'd think you would actually be rather fluid." She craned a brow when her discerning eye came across Henry. "And you too, Henry? I didn't take you for a gambling sort."

"Not usually, but I wanted to make a change. Besides, it's more entertaining when you have more people to  _curse._ " His tongue hissed dramatically on the 's' in the last word he spoke, which involuntarily sent shivers up some spines. Gaius seemed unaffected, but coughed awkwardly into his elbow.

"Seriously, we'll be done as soon as we can. Why don't you watch? It's no fun being sidelined," The thief offered to the knight, but she put a hand out in response.

'That's considerate of you, but the sooner you can finish up your games the quicker the cleaning duty can come and fix things. Just hurry it up, alright?" She walked away from them, knowing that her wise words would be enough to inspire them to be hasty. And it did, in some manner, as Gaius gave eye signals to some of the other soldiers to quicken the pace. More rounds finished and Henry monotonously played his part in them.

It was not that he lost interest in the game (rather, he was literally invested in the outcome), but he realized that despite Lissa's earlier evaluation of him, he still felt rather sluggish and off-kilter. The energy which he brought the princess to the mess hall with seemed to disappear, and a languid feeling settled itself in his stomach and mind.

He almost lost focus entirely when he realized the game was on him, now. They all looked to him with bated breaths, and he would have lost track if Gaius didn't so gratuitously state that they left off on number seven.

Henry swiftly glanced at his own hand. He had two sixes, an ace, and a king left. No true sevens were to be seen, and this was the first situation in which something like this has happened. Up to this point he had somehow been playing truthfully, and he relished in the defeated looks of those that called him out on his bullshit, only to find that he spoke the truth and now caused those poor souls to lose their money.

Now he was in the opposite situation, and he knew he had to be clever about it all in order to get away. Without further hesitation, he took a six from his hand and gently placed it on the pile. He smiled softly and glanced around at his competitors. The Plegian allowed the smallest slivers of his blue-obsidian eyes to be seen, with a dark gleam inside that denoted the mischief his mind was currently thinking of. He parted pale lips and practically sung.

"One seven, just as I said." A cool edge in his tone made everyone seemed convinced that the dark mage was bearing the truth. The only person that had to believe him was Gaius, who just needed to take his own turn so as to speed the process along.

But it did not go quite as smoothly. The thief blinked twice, and with a rather assured tone, he called out: " _Bullshit._ "

It was silent once more. No one expected Sticky-Fingers Gaius to be so straightforward suddenly, especially since he was on the verge of winning and shouldn't be trying his luck. But that was exactly what he was doing, for his voice did not falter in any way. Henry was taken aback, but he had a good moment to decide what to do.

He could  _cheat._ A simple hex he managed to work out before would allow the appearance of the card to look different than it actually is. No one would have been able to keep perfect track of the numbers so far, so they wouldn't suspect it was out of place. If Henry wanted to, he could silently will the card to be a seven instead of the six it was.

He could  _win._ But at the same time, he could lose graciously and fairly, and everyone would only think better of him. Gaius may go easier on him, or be lost in the ecstasy of his wins that would surely ensue once Henry was out of the picture. Past him, the rest of the players were small fry that would fold in on their own accord if allowed. So really, there was nothing to gain by losing. Nothing but a sort of personal satisfaction that would be ever warped in Henry's mind, just as all things tend to be.

The dark mage only had seconds left to decide what to do. Would he cheat with a seven, or proceed with a six? Win by means unearthly, or lose as the natural order would have it? He was a youth, after all, one that really shouldn't partake in these risky games to begin with. But so was Gaius and he never thought less or more of Henry for playing thus far. So it was, in Henry's mind, only fair to acknowledge such impartiality.

He flipped the card over, and nearly dropped it in the ear-splitting din that erupted instantly afterwards.

It was a six.

...

"Have you ever gambled, Ricken?" Henry suddenly asked as the two of them were enjoying each other's company in their precious free time. They chose to spend it idling about, strolling through the campgrounds that they've grown so accustomed to.

They watched with ease and wonder as several tents packed up, and new units moved in and out to gather resources, go on missions, and other things that they knew not the extent of. He vaguely thought that Ricken's sense of awareness had fled with the outgoing convoys, and was lucky to see the boy bring himself back to reality in time to answer the question he posed for him.

"Gambled? O-Of course I have," he lied, the ends of his ears turning scarlet. "Oh, who am I kidding?"

"That's what I'd like to know."

The smaller mage gave a friendly shove before laughing it off. "Yeah, yeah. So there's your answer, Henry. I've never gambled before. I send most of the money I've got to my parents, anyway, so I don't have time to bet or anything."

"What a good kid you are," he commented, as if Ricken was decades his junior and not a simple three or four years behind him. They both laughed again.

"Why do you ask? Does this have to do with the huge  _beating_ you got from Gaius?" Ricken perked up, the sound of gossip playing itself on his lips. There was an ardent look of curiosity in his eyes, one that Henry could not deny.

So he didn't.

"How'd you know? Did Cordelia tell you?"

"No, I heard it from Vaike. He heard it from some other guy that was sitting at the table. I heard you lost all your earnings to Gaius in the final rounds." The brunet looked around, and then whispered quietly as if to be indiscriminate.

"I know a spell that will cast illusions. I know that  _you know it_ too. So why didn't you cheat, Henry? You could have made a fortune off of those guys!"

Coincidentally, the two of them passed by the merchants' tents as they spoke. They were like exotic markets hidden in the folds of beige and white tents. Some were financiers of the Shepherds cause, while others were Shepherds themselves trying to make a living. A loud, discordant harmony of sales pitches and singing erupted into the air, and through it all Henry found himself focusing on one thing.

Anna's tent. The trickster was just that, and even trickier when it came to marketing. Her tent seemed more lavish than the ones before it, and while she usually had a crowd of financially dull saps around, only one person was present at her counter.

It was Gaius, of course. He seemed extremely happy, exuberant almost, as he chatted away to his fellow comrade and thief about his haul. He mentioned what a pain it was to lose his belongings in the fiasco Henry and him had endured, and that with the winnings from a recent gamble he was able to pay most of it back. There was genuine happiness on his face, that which was evident in the curl of lips and lift of cheeks. The spattering of freckles seemed lighter in the sun, and dark, stormy eyes were at a blissful calm as he stared ahead of him.

He was really,  _actually_  happy. All because of a simple game that Henry decided the outcome of. He chose something that worked in someone else's favor, an action he hardly took nowadays. But he would take it again, and again, and  _again_ if it meant seeing Gaius react like that.  _This,_ he thought,  _is actually better than when he's fuming mad and being super funny. Maybe._

And while there was still an annoyance in his mind when he stared at Gaius, Henry admitted that something was starting to change. But he didn't know what—all he knew was that he made someone's day. That, in and of itself, made a pleasant ring resonate within Henry's chest. It was a feeling he could not quite grasp yet, but he felt that he liked it all the same.

"I could have made a fortune," he finally answered, "but I decided not to."

"Why?"

"Because I made a promise, silly."

"And you actually kept it?" Ricken was in disbelief. The shadows in the earthiness of his irises contracted back and forth, belying the wonder that it hid inside. Henry's deep sea gaze opened up just enough to match the wonder, and there was a  _hint_ of benevolence that maybe—just  _maybe_ —wasn't there before. It disappeared when his eyes closed yet again, and he looked away from Ricken entirely. He looked away from Gaius, Anna, and everything in between and outside.

He laughed pleasantly.

"I know what you mean," he said, "it's all new to me, too."


	5. Moods and Mornings

Time passed, as it always does. What used to be called fights between Gaius and Henry had lovingly been turned into  _incidents,_ and everyone supposed it was better that way. But since the gambling  _incident,_ the two had actually not seen much of each other.

That is not to be misunderstood as something bad, however. It was much better than before, where they bickered and argued and even put each other in harm's way. Their clashing personalities—Henry's unsteadiness, much like the sea and even more whimsical, versus Gaius' steadfast restitution, like the earth and much more flexible—was only the half of it, as they seemed to disagree with nearly everything else after that. But they didn't fight like they used to, and that was a relief to everyone in the Shepherds' army.

But it also meant that they were not as well put together as they should have been. Things were distant, forlorn, and rather  _boring_ if one thought about it long enough; and no love nor respect was formed between the two of them as a result. But why should have there been? Past the jabs and the insults, the only thing that Henry and Gaius had in common was their amazing ability to be positively infuriating towards others. And that was not exactly the ideal trait for them to have bonded over.

At the very least, there was one person that could tolerate Henry's shenanigans and that person was Ricken. The boy was good company and an even better friend. As much as Henry was hesitant to admit it, he actually cherished the younger mage for everything he did. From his stubbornness to his insistence on being deemed as an adult (seriously, his desire to be seen as mature was so great that even Henry was surprised at why that was such a big deal for him), the boy was eccentric to a fault but was still kindhearted and good-willed.

Even if the younger mage seemed exasperated about Henry half the time, it was good being with him. Even when his attention has dawdled elsewhere, especially to that of the younger female comrades—Nowi, Lissa, and Maribelle, for example—it was nice being with him. Henry did not mind any of it, and in fact he liked Ricken all the more for his honesty. And while the Plegian was known to throw words around carelessly, whenever he said he liked something he was usually very true about it.

These strange emotions showed themselves more fully the next morning, when Henry woke up in quite a good mood and could not tell why. He assumed it was simply a good dream, even if he knew himself that he often had nightmares or could not remember his dreams that well in the first place.

When he had his usual breakfast, he was called over by Robin to a meeting, and it was then and there that he figured out why he was feeling so good.

For the first time in weeks, Henry would be working with Gaius again. There was no explanation as to why he was so happy to hear that, nor why his bloody laughs seemed much more tranquil than usual. The only thing he could explain was that there was a deep, resonating hollowness in his chest, that which ached somewhat  _less_  at the thought of a certain Ylissean thief.

...

On the other hand, Gaius had been preoccupied with his own life. Long before Henry's unwanted interruptions, the thief held a routine of sorts. He often harvested things to make sweets—honey, sugar, salt, even nuts—on his own, knowing that it was ill-advised of him to be using the Shepherds' pantry for his own personal obsession. That took up a good part of his day, much to his dismay.

But aside from that, he would spend another large part of his time gambling or stealing. In fact, he spent a lot of time stealing. Granted that his time with the Shepherds has lessened his need for thievery somewhat, stealing things had been his livelihood for nearly every single day of his life, so it was hard to quit that habit right away.

Whenever he was not in battle or doing the things listed, he was actually socializing. He got along with Robin and Anna quite well, such that on Sundays he would go treasure hunting with the latter and  _inspecting_ with the former (but it was the same activity in actuality). Aside from them, his usual company consisted of the class of thieves in the army. If he was lucky, he could spend some time with Lon'qu, Lissa, or Chrom once in a while. Even Olivia, Cherche, or Libra graced his presence periodically, and Gaius was all the more wiser for it.

To him, this was optimal in any scenario because he was not supposed to have friends to begin with. At first his enlistment in this do-good army was for the acquisition of sweets and sweets alone. But he had begun to change as a person, or at least, he had started showing his true colors more often. While he often denied it and hid himself from the positive light of it, Gaius truly did care for other people. For the low life he claims he is, he took to protecting the image and safety of others quite often.

The Shepherds were not the first to see him in action, but they were the first to understand him for it. As such, he found himself very preoccupied with his allies, in more ways than he would like or imagine.

Needless to say, the thief forgot about a certain dark mage with hair as white as snow and a heart as black as coal. He almost disregarded the idea of a darkly humorous youth wrought by horror and trauma since birth, one that joked and laughed as if there were no more jokes to be had ever again. He almost,  _almost_ forgot. But like anything else in his life, Gaius knew that this change of pace was soon to end. What comes around goes around, as they say, and Gaius goes around and around and around again, losing all but his wits in the process.

...

Breakfast continued on like no other. Henry usually tagged along with Ricken, and it was no surprise that the boy was much more popular than he was; he was much more popular than the other could ever  _hope_  to be. And this did not particularly bother Henry, but it made him seem rather passive as the mage-in-training would lead the conversations they would have with others. Henry, as a result, realized just how well-liked the boy was considering that at every mealtime, a small or large group would form around him naturally.

This morning's group consisted of some of the younger soldiers. It made sense, seeing how young and naive Ricken was himself, and Henry was not as old as he claimed to be. At the table, he was joined by Donnel, Lissa, Maribelle, and Nowi. While the manakete was at least a thousand years old, her physique and mentality was much younger, and she fit in with the rest of the kids. At times, their odd gathering would be joined by an interested Miriel or a shy Olivia, and to that Henry was no less welcoming than he would be to anyone else.

Ricken was going on wildly about something, to which Henry responded with a good comment every now and then. He wanted to say more but the number of people around them made that impossible, although he wouldn't step out so brazenly in a setting like this in the first place. Also it helped that he did not know the others as well as Ricken knew them, and Maribelle's rather silent, hostile glare more than proved that.

She stared at him in a way that she was just  _waiting_ for him to step out of line.  _Say anything out of place, you Plegian cur. I dare you._ Not a single word spoken, but it was as if Henry could hear her composed, shrill voice repeating those very same words within his mind. And perhaps that was what she wanted, based on the intensity of her eyes.

He countered her with a rather ominous glance himself. He fluttered his dark eyes open ever so slightly, revealing the twisted and wondrous sliver of black iris beneath pale lashes. These eyes obscured more than just magic, and Henry smirked for added effect.  _Hahaha. Oh, you Ylissean fool. I don't even have to speak to make you afraid of me, hmm?_

Before Maribelle could retaliate, Robin appeared at their table. Their eyes flickered with curiosity but remained affixed on Henry as they spoke. "Sorry to interrupt your fun. But I need to see Lissa, Maribelle, Ricken, Henry, and Miriel. Come with me, please." Those words were enough to convince them, and no one in this army could refuse their tactician, anyway. They all stood up, leaving their additional allies behind as they followed after them. They conversed amidst themselves in curiosity, but Henry was taking no part in it.

For some reason unknown to him, he had a feeling that he'd be seeing Gaius soon. That thought alone was enough to make his hairs stand on end, and a deliciously eerie chill climbed its way up his spine, settling at the base of his neck where it would fester in inexplicable, unending anxiety.

...

Once their small group reached Robin's tent, they realized they were not alone.

One of the people already there was Tharja, Henry's fellow Plegian and dark mage. She was sulking in a corner, mostly bothered by the generally  _sunny_ people that arrived, but more so that the number of people in the vicinity made it impossible for her to make a move on Robin. Her ebony eyes showed signs of tiredness, exhaustion, and disbelief. Henry thought that there was some curse keeping her up at night, and he made a note to bother Tharja about it later.

Farther away from Tharja was Anna the Trickster. The woman was not only sly, but she was wise, knowledgeable, and one of the best merchants around. There was a wonderfully charismatic smile on her shining, poised face, and even her body was noticeable for its curves beneath the crimson garb. Henry, in all honesty, had never thought much of her, but from Ricken he had heard she was quite lethal in her own right, and often toyed with her enemies like how a cat toys with a mouse. She was ruthless and fast, and so lucky that Ricken swore he saw her dodge a whole battle's worth of hits. She was, as he said, "practically invincible."

No doubt this was all over exaggeration on the mage's part, but Henry admired those qualities anyway. He wished he could be as deft as her but that was a wild dream that would never come true.

The other person of interest was—as fate would have it—Gaius. The thief seemed uncomfortable, despite the presence of his good friends Anna and Robin. Maybe it was Tharja's gloomy disposition or Maribelle's heated scorn that set him off, but Henry had a feeling that it was  _him_ who caused such unease in the other. They shared eye contact for a quick moment or so, before Gaius expertly tore his eyes away and forced them to focus on the tactician in front of them. Henry snorted, but followed suit.

Robin beckoned for everyone to come in closer as they spread a roll of parchment across the center table. It had an overwhelming scent of fresh ink and new paper, and several arrows and circles were already drawn on it. Robin proffered several metal pieces from beneath the counter, those which acted like pretend soldiers and lead Henry to believe that some sort of battle strategy was being laid before them. The mere thought of it all amused him, and he could feel his frail heart beat faster.

"I'm sure some of you are aware," Robin announced, "of the fact that we have been having unfortunate run ins with bandits lately. This group is more crafty than your usual kind, and they are known for stealing town treasuries, and have even helped themselves to our resources now and then. Their pilfering natures must be dealt with you see."

"Oh dear," Tharja murmured, "and here I was thinking all the money was going somewhere helpful. New tomes, for example."

"Well, the bandits that messed with  _us_ in particular have been dealt with  _personally,_ " Anna sang, "so don't worry about  _them._ " Whilst her sword was sheathed at her side, there was still a menacing gleam coming from it somehow. Ricken gulped audibly and Lissa coughed awkwardly, and Robin did their best to save the situation.

"Anyway," they said, "our scouts have found their base of operations. Here." They pointed at a large, inky circle slightly left of the center of the map. "This is a cave located near the border of Plegia and Ylisse. It's heavily forested, so it took some time to locate it in the first place. Several of the bandits have been seen going in and out. Intel says that they seem to be particularly weak to magic."

"So that's why you wanted the mages?" Ricken asked. "You want us to stop them?"

"Precisely," Robin said, "it'll be a good time for you all to be your training to use."

"What about us?" Gaius motioned to himself and Anna. "We don't use magic."

" _You_ don't use magic," Anna corrected, tapping a finger against the top of her healing staff.

The ginger rolled his eyes. "You know what I meant, Red.  _Offensive magic._ Your Levin Sword's one thing, but why are we part of this in that case?"

"Ah, but you two  _are_ important. After all, these bandits have been going in and out for at least a few months. There's quite a number of them, too. There is no reason for so many of them to be there at once, unless maybe..." she glanced at Gaius, who seemed to know what they meant by now.

"Maybe they were guarding something," he answered. "Maybe that's where the stash is. Bubbles, you sly fox, you want us to  _steal it back._ "

" _Exactly._ " They seemed pleased now that everything was falling into place. "My exact plan is to have our mages deal most of the damage. Lissa and Maribelle, you are essential for healing them, as well. And while you distract a majority of the enemies, Anna and Gaius can sneak around and grab whatever they can. You two also know your way around a chest, so you should have no problem with the vast treasures they have hoarded."

The thought of increasing their profits made the redhead thieves smile widely. They were like minded in many ways, one of those ways being in they jumped at any chance to fill their coffers. Anna gave her trademark grin and laugh, flipping back an errant strand of ruby red hair behind her.

"Of course, this is perfect! I'm  _always_ ready to collect."

"Same here. We're ready when you are."

The strategist nodded, and tried to put at ease the mages who were not nearly so chipper about the whole ordeal. Somehow, they were able to succeed as the obvious slump of worry lightened up on the others considerably from a simple smile. They spared themselves a laugh.

"You'll all be fine. I have full confidence in your abilities. Why don't you get ready, and the expedition will set out once you're all set?"

There was louder confirmation this time, and the small party broke into easy conversation afterward. Henry glanced at Gaius, and relished in the other's countenance falling at mere eye contact with him. There was an unspoken dread and worry in his sepia eyes, and that made Henry's ebony irises flex in excitement.

"I can't wait," he called out loudly, "this will be so  _fun._ "


	6. Doubts and Dreams

It did not take long for them to set out. Within the next hour, the band of eight were on the road, dropped off as far as they could have been by the convoy wagons. The leader of their navigation thereafter was Anna, as Robin deemed her the most knowledgeable when it came to scoping the area out. Before the Shepherds, she was a travelling merchant that knew the land like the back of her hand. It still held on tightly, this wisdom of hers, as she even stopped deferring to the map and started walking on her pure instinct, instead.

"I'm gonna be slashing at more than prices today. What a bargain!" She chirped, practically skipping her way down the paths. It had been a while since she had such an opportunity to fill her coffers, as her immense skill required her on the battlefield more often than not. In Anna's eyes, this was the best break she could have had in a while, and she was sure that Gaius would agree. So she turned around on her heels to see how her fellow thief was doing.

Strangely, she found Gaius falling unceremoniously on his face. There was a short look of terror in his eyes before there was ultimate acceptance. He was trailing in the back, but some apparent squabble with an angry Maribelle caused him to be pushed forward in the first place. He crashed into Lissa and Henry in front of him, and the three of them fell onto the ground as a result.

While Lissa fell a little ways off the path, Gaius and Henry were spared nothing but humiliation.

Gaius toppled in such a way that he could not recover himself, and no matter how askew his limbs were he could not avoid landing on top of Henry. There was a split second between them were they glanced at each other horrifically before falling. The dark mage, in all his sorcery, could not protest as the larger, stronger body forced him to the ground, and Gaius could only brace himself for what happened next.

Henry yelped as he tumbled onto the dirt, all manner of rocks and sticks poking his backside through the thin fabric of his clothes. One of Gaius' elbows struck Henry in the side, and he unintentionally flinched at the motion. The rest of him was splayed out awkwardly and ultimately, the thief had the mage pinned down in an unintentionally compromising position—the close proximity of their bodies were enough to kill Gaius with sheer embarrassment alone.

It could have funny, romantic, or some weird mix of the both, but instead it was just awkward and stifling. The other six group members had largely varying reactions.

Tharja giggled, enjoying the obvious displeasure the other two were feeling. Lissa looked apologetic, as if her stumble had caused them to fall like that in the first place. Maribelle started ranting about how they shouldn't "hurt her darling Lissa" with their incompetence, while Miriel was (thankfully) disinterested in it all as she hadn't looked up from her book in the first place. Anna gave a small smile, not because she was sympathetic but more because she was amused by it all.

Unsurprisingly, Ricken was the only one who bothered to help. He offered his hand to Gaius, and the thief refused him as politely as possible whilst getting up on his lonesome. Ricken then moved over to Henry, who took his hand in sheer gratitude. The younger boy said: "Careful, all of you! We haven't even gotten there and we're already getting hurt..."

As Henry righted himself, he started to pick out the rocks embedded in his backside. He laughed. "Yeah, I hate ouchies. Whose fault was that, anyway?"

Gaius mumbled, and turned his indignant gaze towards Maribelle, who went from being rather angry to coldly apathetic. "Twinkles," he cried out, "was it really necessary to push me? C'mon!"

"Of  _course_ it was. You had the gall to put your filthy hands on my person!"

"I touched your  _shoulder,_ Gods above! I was trying to talk to you—"

" _That,_ you lowlife, is where you are  _wrong._  I can only tolerate your persistence up to here! While we are working together in this terrible instance, know this: we are allies in name  _only._ Do not test me!"

Her voice was strong and unwavering; the usual shrillness of her tone was replaced by a low menace, instead. Still, it was enough to silence the loudest of them, and only their footsteps and the turning of pages was heard after that. The group awkwardly moved along, and Henry couldn't help but be confused by it all. Maribelle was known to have a rather fierce and short temper, one that was especially impressive among nobles, no less. But the way she scorned Gaius—the way she poured molten lava into his eyes with her own—was different than usual.

It was personal.

And if Henry wasn't on such strange terms with Gaius, he would have half the mind to ask him about it all. If Gaius and Henry got along better, Gaius would even answer him and the curiosity that was burning the dark mage inside would be sated at once. But alas, their relationship was not good enough to warrant that sort of gossip, and as such Henry was in no position to ask such questions. So he had no choice but to accept the fact that his curiosity would remain simmering within him, smoldering like a waning fire. He could do nothing but let it all unfold.

His eyes were closed and he stepped forward without anymore hesitation. He fell in the listless rhythm of the others, and as Ricken tried to alleviate the situation with a bad joke, Henry's thoughts became plain and simple.  _Boy,_ he wondered,  _this is going to be a looooong day, I can tell._

...

Hours later and the sun had reached its peak in the sky. The warmth from the light was comforting, and Henry was really thankful that his clothes were thin so he would not feel overheated like some of the others might. Judging from the occasional groan or complaint about the weather, he could tell that was what the situation was like now. He smiled to himself, thinking that if they played their cards right, they could deal with the threat and reclaim the treasure by nightfall. If it all went well, they would be in and out within the day and be all the more richer for it.

 _But_ since their group was the most dysfunctional one ever, that was not likely to happen. Since Maribelle's previous outburst, no one was comfortably talking, and Ricken was doing his best to chat with various members but the conversations grew stale quickly. Only Ricken's exchange with Henry would be mildly pleasant, and even then the dark mage made a point of commenting how much more stifling the atmosphere was with Ricken flying around like a fly to check on everyone. The younger boy blushed madly, and whispered a light insult underneath his breath.

It must have been worse than they imagined at first, because at some point, Princess Lissa started actively seeking Henry's advice in a desperate attempt to save the mood.

"Henry? I need to talk to you about something."

He had gone a few hours silently up to this point, and in that time he remained lost in his own head. He was mulling over different types of curses, and thinking back to shape-shifting. At the orphanage which Henry briefly attended in his youth, there were tales of a man with eyes as black as coal who could willfully turn into a crow and back into a human again. Henry himself had seen that magic carry out.  _So,_ he thought,  _with enough practice, maybe even I could do something like that..._

"Henry!" Lissa repeated his name again, her tone growing increasingly annoyed. This time he heard her, however.

 _Oh? The Little Princess needs me?_ He amused himself quite easily, but turned his attention to the royal beside him. "That's my name! Need something?"

"I was wondering if you think this would work. I trust Robin and all, but shouldn't we have brought more people? There's only eight of us and who knows how many enemies we'd be up against. I just...I don't know." She seemed unusually doubtful, but Henry supposed even the delicate crown she wears often weighs down heavily upon her shoulders. He was definitely the wrong person to confide in, though, as his mind naturally went to negative things to begin with.

Or, to things that  _others_ perceive as negative. His mental response to her words was  _"Well, if we die at least we'll die together!"_ but he had a feeling that wasn't what the girl was looking for. He shrugged nonchalantly, letting the folds of his cloak crinkle up against his skin in the process. Despite his rather dismissive attitude, a sedate smile rested on his lips.

"If you're worried, we'll do our best not to die~ I mean, you and Maribelle have our backs and like Robin said, these guys are allergic to magic!" A widespread grin appeared on his face, and he jokingly placed his fingers at the end of corners of his lips for emphasis. "It'll be a  _big joke_ when we're done! Cheer up, Lissa!"

"I'm trying to," she insisted, "but I'm just so worried. I don't mean to be." Her slate colored eyes looked away shamefully, and Henry felt odd about seeing that. Was she fearful of saying her worries like this? But why? He felt that he wouldn't be able to understand no matter how hard he tried, so he simply left her to simmer in her own feelings.

Maribelle soon came over and shot him a strange glance before comforting Lissa. Her pretty pink eyes affixed themselves on the princess' defeated form. "My dear, everything will be fine. That's what Henry means to say, and of course if he was untrue in his sentiments I would have to  _deal with him,_ now wouldn't I?" Her hands tightened around the handle of her parasol purposefully, as if to say something menacing.

Henry found her threat rather charming, but he thought nothing more of it as he had seen such animosity from her before. As such, he dealt with that situation in the same way that he generally dealt with things. A boisterous laugh escaped him, one laced with intentional energy so not as to seem as empty as it actually was. "Yes ma'am!" He agreed with her, and smiled wider at the tension in the air—that which was dissipating with utter ease.

It seemed that he did something good for once, and whether his comrades appreciated it or not didn't really matter to him. Finding amusement in the matter was what was important, so he sought that from one conversation to the next. He approached each member of the party carefully, speaking on his favorite subjects—crows, curses, and blood for example—or on their current worries or ideas. He apologized for calling Ricken an annoying fly earlier, and the boy easily forgave him. The only person he saved himself contact from was Gaius, but that was only to irk him even more later.

Gaius, however, seemed preoccupied on his own accord. Something was bothering him, most likely. Something that Robin had told him whilst in the infirmary the other day.  _There's two sides to a story,_ they had said. That was all there was to it. Of course its value was plain and self-explanatory, but the meaning in the words themselves were not what bothered Gaius.

It was the implications. He wondered what Henry had told Robin, or if he had told the tactician anything at all. And what did that little rascal think of him, anyway? If he was anything like Gaius, he would have found the whole matter abhorrent to begin with. But Henry was  _nothing_ like Gaius so that was what caused the latter to think of him. Did the boy treat their little debacle like a game? Or was he plotting something larger, using his mischief as a mask for greater schemes to come? Did he like Gaius to the point where obsessed over him as Tharja did to Robin, or did he harbor a nasty grudge, instead? Looking back on it all, Gaius supposed that the harm they brought upon each other was enough to make someone exact revenge.

Was that what Henry wanted, then? More revenge? Had he not gotten it in forms of humiliation or play? Had he not been satisfied by seeing Gaius at his worst, on the brink of death and exhaustion when he was usually the one with energy (and sugar) to spare? Even when their lives had been on the line, that all seemed insignificant as there was one thing that worried Gaius most of all.

It was the look on Henry's face whenever he killed something. Or  _someone_ , for that matter. He was always smiling—that  _damned_ kid—as if there were no other expressions to suit him in the world. That unnerving, blank smile was written on his visage no matter what was happening around him. Even as Henry confronted death itself in that short moment in time, he  _smiled._

 _Crivens,_ Gaius thought,  _I must sound like an obsessed madman. But I can't help it._ He glanced at the white-haired male, and found himself confused by the cheery gait he showed off—the obvious happiness that was as real as a faux fur coat.

These thoughts were so strong that they temporarily distracted Gaius, and made the thief think of things other than pillaging, plundering, or working behind the , as much as he hated it, he kept thinking about one person in particular—and he was ever so grateful that _that_  person was oblivious to his onlooking stares. He was grateful that Henry could not see him as he was now, lost in thoughts all alone about a singular mage and his wicked grin.

 _I'm really losing my wits here,_ he thought angrily,  _we'd better get this over with soon._

...

Deep inside a certain cave, certain bandits were talking amid themselves. Quite some time had passed since their earlier meeting and the end of the cave—a large space where many tables, chairs, and chests of gold remained—was full of fighters, thieves, and lowlifes all around. There were about fifty of them in all, give or take a few depending on the day. While most were lower classed lackeys, a few stronger men were the ones leading the pack. The boss of it all stood on top of one of the wooden tables, and garnered the attention of his underlings.

"We all know what's to come," he started off by saying, "our scouts—sharp as foxes, they are—noticed the Shepherds' lookouts for weeks now. I've heard it myself and many of you blokes asked,  _how come we didn't kill them?_ Why'd we let those half wits go free with the location of our treasure? Here's your answer!" He threw down a glass goblet onto the ground, the force of impact shattering the thing into dozens of pieces. The mercenaries roared with approval at the display. It egged him on.

"We're gonna take those Shepherds down! That self righteous lot ought to be taught a lesson! They'll think we're small fry and send a small group down to get us, for sure. We'll kill those fools on arrival! We'll take the survivors as hostages and demand twice our money from that Chrom of theirs!" A wide smile appeared on his face, and the man pumped his fist into the air. "We'll show 'em that we mean business! We'll take in names and rack 'em up for the whole world to see!"

"We'll take 'em  _down!_  Do you hear me, you lot? We'll take them  _down!"_

The other members of this band cheered loudly, stomping their feet and screaming into the air. They started chanting three words as bravely as they could, wholeheartedly believing they would be able to win in the future conflict. "Take them down! Take! Them! Down! Take them down!" It was a rally with more than an outcry; it was a cause as dishonorable as the next.

They laid in wait for the Shepherds to come, wiring the cave with their defenses, hoping the lambs would come to slaughter. They set in place a trap that would, above all else, destroy the good-willed soldiers in body, mind, and soul. They knew what was to come and they waited fervently for it. While their major weakness was magic, if they could hit hard enough and fast enough, the squishy mages they would likely be up against would become nothing more than potpourri at their hands.

They waited for the beginning and the end.

...

The Shepherds arrived at their destination. The afternoon sun was fading into evening by the time they got there, but the light was still bright enough to guide them. Through the thick and dense forests they traversed, realizing why they hadn't found this cave before. They needed blasts of Arcfire to get through the thickest bush, and vaguely wondered how the magic-less scouts got there to begin with. They eventually reached a clearing, and took in the sights before them.

It was grassland for the most part, and there was a section where the cave in front of them cut off into a hill that lead to a natural walkway above. If they took the grassy ramp to the side, they would actually see over the cave's formation, and find the roofs of the inside chambers before them. But their goal did not lie in wait for them at the top, and rather it was hidden deep inside.

A natural feeling of anxiety washed over them, and some hid it better than others. Anna, among the rest, was able to transform her nervousness into excitement, and she grinned from ear to ear of the possibilities in front of them. With that same energy, she gathered the other Shepherds and regrouped their entirety near the entrance where they thought over any possible strategies. They were not Robin, and even their combined intellect could not outmatch the tactician's wit. But they still tried to come up with a good plan before proceeding further.

"Maybe we could use the animals as a decoy~" Henry jested, "since they  _love_ Ricken so much." He pointed at the forest's inhabitants that followed the young mage all the way to the clearing. There were the usual deer, birds, and squirrels, but even a small red fox and a raccoon had gathered before him. The mage in question simply chuckled as he reached down to pet some of them.

"We're not getting  _them_ involved," Ricken asserted, "they don't deserve that. Besides, they don't make much of a decoy. They might actually block us if they, uh, y'know—"

"—Die?" Henry finished the sentence for the hesitant Ricken, and smiled as the other flinched in response. "You're right, that would make for a troublesome fight. It would be good for curses, though!"

Tharja perked up at this conversation, and laughed darkly beside Henry. "That's right. We could cast a curse to gain the upper hand. We would need a sacrifice for the best of it, though. We would also need to know some names."

"Is that what it takes to curse someone?" Lissa inquired. "You need to know their name?"

"Their  _real name,_ " Henry added. He seemed positively enthralled in divulging this information.  _It's not a problem to me if they know,_ he thought,  _any dark mage knows exactly the same thing!_  "That's how I was able to curse you to go to sleep better, Lissa~ It's a good thing you royals are so honest with your names and heritages and whatnot!"

She blushed as red as a rose whilst looking away. "Well, sheesh! I appreciate what you did for me but you don't have to mention my insomnia to everyone! Now you make me wish I had a secret code name, or something. If that's the case how are you even gonna use curses in battle? Everyone's screaming, yelling, and fighting!"

"You'd be surprised," Henry pointed out, "how many people like to announce themselves before attacking! It's helpful!"

"We are  _not_ —" Ricken cut in quickly, stepping forward into the circle with reddened cheeks—"going to kill these poor creatures just so you can have some sacrifices ready! We can defeat our enemies without curses, please and thanks."

"We  _can,_ it'd just be harder." But the male dark mage was not one to interfere. He had his orders so he simply needed to follow them. "But alright."

"It's much simpler than that." Anna stepped forward, placing a hand on her hip and flashing a smile towards her comrades. "Gaius and I rush in and dodge those clumsy dirt-for-brains. Once we take them by surprise, you guys sling 'em with your spells! Of course, Lissa and Maribelle will need to lay back, but you guys can heal us all from behind, right?" Her words were very lucid and easy to understand, and seemed to fill some of the others with much needed confidence. "We'll be  _fine._ "

"Red's got a point," Gaius said, "and if they can't hit us they can't hurt us. It'll be a quick job—in and out before you know it."

The group seemed happy with this development, and after speaking about the formation a bit more, they decided to hurry on inside. Lissa was brave to lead the party at first, but a worried Maribelle pulled her back, saying: "Be careful, dear. If these troglodytes have half a brain, they would have set up traps. Let's walk together, okay?" She easily agreed with her, momentary bravery fading away into her natural confidence. So they fell to the back of the group, naturally.

Henry lagged farther behind them with Tharja, however, and he looked to his fellow Plegian with the usual smile. "Hey, I've got a good feeling about this."

"Then it must be bad," Tharja reasoned, "your good feelings are as good as Grima."

"Haha!" he laughed at her words, the noise itself sounding rather calm despite the look he wore on his face. "You've got a point there! But I did try my hand in divination the other day, and while I failed I did manage to get a cool side effect."

"Is it one where if I tell you to drop dead, you will do so without hesitation?" Her voice was sedate yet threatening at the same time. Her eyes were cold and bruise-like. He felt like bleeding out whenever she stared at him. "Because if not then I wouldn't consider it a 'cool' side effect."

"Oh, you slay me sometimes, Tharja! What I mean is that I might not be able to see the future, but my intuition is so much better now. I have a feeling something  _good_  will happen." His repeated the statement from before, emphasizing what needed to be before widening his smile as far as it could go. He even showed his teeth, this time around. Tharja paused to examine them. They were whiter than she would expect in a time of war, and weirdly straight. They unnerved her, somehow, but she kept this feeling bottled up inside.

"Something good will happen. Something  _bloody,_ " he added for emphasis, and picked up the corpse of a small squirrel that happened to be by his feet. "You should keep this~ It could help."

"If there was a time I was ever a naysayer in divination, it's now." She eyed the cadaver, and quickly grabbed it from his hands. "But this comes in useful, anyway. Thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome. And don't lie about the divination part, I've seen you swindle Nowi of her nail clippings~" Henry teased. "You must be  _way_ better at the fortune telling stuff than I am!"

The woman grew the slightest shades of pink, and harshly shoved the man in front of her. He laughed at her expense. "I'll turn you into a toad for that."

"And I'll turn myself right back to human again!" He reassured her, laughing as he always did. "But I'm glad you appreciate it. I mean it when I say it's gonna come in handy."

"Hey!" Gaius yelled at them, and when the two looked over they realized they fell behind the others' pace. "Hurry it up, you weirdos. Or we're leaving you out here!" Needless to say, the dark mages quickly caught up, and seemingly giggled to themselves for no reason at all.

It was a Plegian thing, they decided. No one else needed to know.

...

The cave was surprisingly dark, although they noticed torch holders built into the walls. The torches themselves were snuffed out, and on further investigation it seemed as if they were lit hours ago. "They're expecting us," Miriel announced, joining Ricken as the two of them lit bulbs of Elfire into the air to guide them. "They assume we've brought no light of our own, or are incompetent to spark a flame from flint and the like. How curious."

"They think we don't know their weakness," Gaius piped up, "but we do." he glanced at the mages in front and behind him and smirked. "We've got the upper hand on them, sadly. Poor blokes aren't gonna live to see the outside of this damned cave."

"I wouldn't want them to," Anna suddenly spoke, "but look!"

She motioned to the sides of the cave, and once Ricken redirected the light everyone could see what was there. Protruding from the walls were stones—jewels, no doubt. They were varying in sizes although many of them were quite large. They were everywhere from the ground to the ceiling, and only half of the natural walkways were navigable as gems decorated the other half. Oddly enough these minerals bore no color or shade, and remained a boring light gray appearance in the darkness.

Miriel examined them further. "Strange. I am not well-versed in geology, but based on my previous experiences, gemstones of this kind would retain some sort of color or hue—even in dark environments. Perhaps these are embedded with a sort of camouflage." She reasoned, pushing her spectacles up along her nose. While this inquiry interested some, Anna—the pioneer of this discovery—seemed only concerned with its outer appearance.

She proferred a sharp, small dagger from her person and tried to chip one of the jewels off the wall. "Hey, it comes off easy!" The gem quickly broke off in a nearly full piece, its round and lustrous shape sitting squarely in the palm of her hand. "The color can be fixed with dyes or something. How much would these sell for?"

"Not much," Henry noted, "not in Ylisse, anyway. With that biiiig mark of Plegia on it, it would drive all sorts of customers away!"

With the exception of Tharja, everyone else froze in place. Then they simultaneously looked at Henry—or the jewels, depending on what was closer—in confusion. "What mark of Plegia?" Maribelle asked. "There is none!"

"I see it," Tharja reinforced, pointing a slender finger at what appeared to be an unmarked spot on a jewel in the rock. "It's big and obvious. They all have it."

"You're kidding!" Lissa gawked. "I don't see anything! What the heck?"

"Do you think—" Gaius moved closer with an incredulous look plastered on his face—"that only  _Plegians_ can see it? Maybe there's a reason we don't see anything." The non-Plegians of the group stopped to think, and easily agreed with his idea. Tharja, being the person she was, became impatient with the conjectures, and shoved past Gaius with plans of her own.

She brought one of her hands out to place in front of her, and with a delicate motion she placed her palm over one of the jewels inlaid in the wall. Suddenly, the cave began to lightly vibrate with a hum of awakened magic, and all the empty jewels filled up with color and light.

It was as if multiple stars or torches had come alive, only so much more abundant. The cave was glowing and illuminated, such that Ricken and Miriel felt it appropriate to cease their Elfires. All of them watched with wonder and amusement as a plethora of colors—red, orange, yellow, blue, green, indigo, violet, and every variation in between and outside—filled the jewels up, showing their shapes and sizes much more clearly.

Anna stumbled. "Oh Gods," she said, "this is better than a gold mine! This is a  _jewel_ mine! Minus the mining team, of course! We'll be rich with the discovery of this cave alone!" Her eyes became alight with energy and opportunity, and her smile widened as she stared into the jewel she cut off, that which turned out to be a bright magenta color. "Think about it! We invite locals to come in and mine as much as they can! 'Who Can Get The Most Jewels'. It instantly becomes a tourist attraction, and we save the best bits for ourselves. Oh, I can see it now..."

"That's not why we're here," Maribelle quickly cut in. "We can worry about... _excavation_ later. We have, unfortunately, much more pressing matters to attend to." Her dark eyes flitted about, inspecting the beauteous wonder around them. "If we finish as quickly as you say we can then it shouldn't be a problem."

"Ooh~ Pretty~" Henry cooed, opening his eyes slightly to partake in the awe. He had his back turned, so it was alright for him to break his facade just a little bit. Not that he needed to open his eyes to see, anyway, but it looked better with the real thing. After a moment of admiration or so, he turned around to face the others, eyes closed once more.

His voice was startlingly bright. "You know what would be funny? If we lost this whole fight."

Ricken stood agape, and tried to smooth things over as he always did. "W-What do you mean? How could we lose?"

"We're outnumbered, first of all. And being outnumbered hasn't worked for  _us_ before," he turned in Gaius' direction and grinned as widely as he could, "has it?"

The room grew cold with quiet. No one expected such a sudden statement, especially not Gaius. While he knew an event like theirs was unforgettable, he found it to be (at the very least) embarrassing, and detested Henry for being so petty in a moment like this.  _What's his problem?_ He thought.  _Bringing up stuff like this now...what's he thinking?_

"Um," Lissa said, "let's...let's get a move on. Those bandits must realize what's happening by now. If we still want to catch them by surprise we'd better hurry." She looked toward Maribelle as if to plead, then looked elsewhere just as quickly. "Right?"

"Right~" Henry agreed, and he skipped ahead of the others, purple cape billowing out from behind him.

Gaius wondered if it was considered rude or not to step on it while he could. While it might seem cruel or childish, he figured it was an appropriate action to be done to the cruelest and most childish of them all. And past the intrigue on the other's rather erratic mannerisms, Gaius decided that he would be sooner done with Henry as he could. If he wanted to, he could catch up to the brat right now and trounce all over his pretty, Plegian cape and twist the rest of him onto the dirt just as well.

He wouldn't mind watching the dark mage plunder face first into the ground, after all.


	7. Caves and Cracks

Deep within the caves, the bandits (who called themselves The Brilliant Bunch, but knew that would never stick) realized something weird was happening. Whilst they knew about the gems in any given situation, they didn't realize what potential they could have. They excavated what they could into carts and chests, but the mass of clear and gray crystals suddenly became rainbow-like in a second's notice.

The leaders were astounded. It was only when they asked questions did some of their allies—who had Plegian blood—admitted that they thought it was weird all the jewels had the mark of Grima on it, but they thought it was normal so they did nothing to investigate it.

"Well, not like it matters now anyway. I guess that means we can't sneak up on them in the walkways," one said in a defeated tone. They relied on the natural darkness of the cave to hide their assault, but with the whole system lit up like a firework they could no longer stick to that plan. There was a loud, choral sigh of disappointment and fear. What were they going to do now that their original plots were moot? They looked to the ringmaster for advice.

"Bring the scouts back in," the leader demanded, "we'll regroup and think of something better. We'll be fine, as long as those Shepherds don't get here soon enough. How they got these jewels to light up is beyond me," he said.

"The scouts are already back, sir." And as if on cue, several of the lackeys appeared before them. They nodded in respect to their leader, who simply crossed his arms and gave them a look of discontent. This usually meant that he wanted them to speak up or proceed, so they did just that. One of them bowed as far as his back would take him, and the other called out in a hesitant tone.

"Sir, it's the Shepherds. We overestimated how much time it would take for them to arrive. They're already here as we speak."

"What gives you  _that_  idea? Was it intuition or the fact that this place is lit up like a parade in Ylisse?" He barked at them, seemingly displeased with their obvious report and the fact that his carefully constructed plan would have to be changed. They cringed at his sudden spike, and he reveled in their fear and obedience. Still, his genuine curiosity got the better of him, and he asked what everyone was already thinking. "What's going on, anyway? Which one of you Plegian blokes made everything so sparkly?"

"None of us, sir. So that's why we think the Shepherds are here. Rumor has it they have some Plegians on their side, even if their soldiers are mostly Ylissean." One of them scratched the back of their heads. "Chrom's a fair guy, right? Guess it don't matter where the help's from as long as he gets it."

"Apparently," the leader agreed. "Well, that's fine by me. They're earlier than expected. We'll wait for them here. They'll have no idea who they're up against. The battle's already in our favor." A wide smile appeared on his face. "Besides, you know what our own forces have been up to. Even if we can't beat them, they'll lose for sure." He gave a knowing look in the direction of the ceilings, walls, and other surfaces as if something greater lay behind them. The other bandits gulped.

"Yes, of course, but I'm worried. Will we be okay with their...creations? Last thing we need is our arses blasted to bits in the chaos."

"Trust me boys," the large man took a sudden turn in personality, as he wrapped his arms around their necks lovingly. "We can't lose. The only way those Sheps make it out is if they're ghosts to begin with, haha!"

...

After an hour or so of winding down multiple walkways and chambers, the group of eight realized they were very near to their destination. Some of the torch holders were actually lit or barely snuffed out, and the further they went the more they realized that the gems in this particular area were already removed from their places in the walls and ceilings. None of the local cave life (mostly lizards, anyway) could have done this, so that could only mean one thing.

They were getting closer and closer to the stronghold. Signs of life were here, and the distinct smell of smoke was noticeable. Miriel was more than eager to write all of her observations down by hand, and a simple spell to keep some of the books airborne as she did so made her seem all the more eclectic. She turned to look at her fellow mage, Ricken.

"I trust you have come prepared. Preparedness is the happenstance of all things, and thus is the foundation of research itself. One cannot go into the field unarmed." She tapped one of the floating books. "I purchased new tomes recently. I hope your usual frugality hasn't failed you, Ricken."

"No, I'm armed." He reassured her, nodding his head as he did so. "I have three Arcwinds with me, plus an Arcfire just in case. I'm better with wind magic so I brought it with me."

"I see. Very wise to stick to your niche. And you?" She asked Tharja and Henry, who were coincidentally walking beside each other. "I can't imagine you would come without a dark tome or two."

"Two is right," Tharja confirmed. "I brought Waste and Flux with me. I enjoy their violence." She ran her fingers against the spine of a tome she had placed in her hands. The insignia glowed with eerie, violet light. "It will be entertaining, if anything."

"I'm good," Henry simply said, "you'll see when we're in there, blowing their heads off!" He deliberately stepped on a stray branch, hoping the snapping sound would bring intimidation to his peers. Lissa jumped up, Ricken frowned, but Miriel was disappointingly unshaken. She just nodded.

"Very well. Let's do our best to be efficient, more than anything."

"Yes, let's!" Anna said quietly. "I see light up ahead. Torch light, and you can hear them, too." She was right as the not-too-distant sound of talking and metal clinking was heard. There was only one chamber left ahead of them, and they knew those noises were because of their opposition getting ready. Swords, lances, axes, and more were waiting at their disposal. Maybe daggers and bows, too, but no matter what it was they were all prepared.

The princess looked to the noble and the two girls nodded as they fell back in formation, in the rear of the party. Gaius and Anna gave knowing looks as they strutted ahead, ready to rush in first. In between those groups were the four mages: Ricken, Miriel, Henry, and Tharja. They were a mix of emotions, everything from sad to excited. Henry was some unintelligible mix of excitement and emptiness. His feeble heart started beating faster, as he could taste the spray of blood and hear the screams of agony already. He was so, so ready for carnage. He felt this yearning in his bones and he knew he had to feed it.

He knew his heart needed more blackening. This euphoria was so strong that he almost missed his cue, and had to sprint to keep up with his group. At the near entrance to the furthermost chamber, Henry could see everything. He could see lots of bandits gearing up for a fight. He could see metal carts filled to the brim with the cave's natural minerals. He could see chests of gold and other stolen riches piled in the back in a large heap.

He could see it all.

Then Anna gave the signal, everyone took their stance, and within that moment she and Gaius rushed into the fray, taking them all by surprise. Henry waited for the first scream to resound before he opened his tome, stepped into the chamber, and blasted the first stranger he could see with his Flux tome. They screamed as they were unarmed at the moment, and fell to their death in a hazy, dark shroud of magic and despair. The rest of the bandits quickly geared up, and Henry smiled knowingly at their future demise.

 _This is good,_ he thought,  _They're easy targets. I want them to_ _bleed out for me. Go ahead, fight me. I'll make you bleed, bleed, bleed._

He had to be careful, though. Half the fight was murder but the rest of it was protecting his comrades. He gave whoever was near him a reassuring smile that  _yes,_ he would do his best to protect them, and  _no,_ he wouldn't think of turning on them. Not now, not ever. He made this sentiment clear as he called out to the opposition with a hazy smile and murky cackle. "I'll make you bleed! Bleed, bleed,  _bleed!_ "

...

The fight started off incredibly well for the Shepherds. Anna and Gaius were right when they surmised their sudden appearance would catch the others off guard. Half of the enemies they dispatched were practically unarmed or unprepared for proper battle. This was a mistake that costed them greatly as the two redheads were like dual tornadoes of destruction.

They were as light fingered as they had ever been, too. The two of them had large, empty burlap sacks hanging over their backs. The fabric begged to be filled with all sorts of stolen goods, so they appeased its appetite. They threw anything they could inside of there. With a teleportation spell that Robin had mastered earlier, anything placed within the sacks would magically be transported to the Shepherds' main treasury back at camp. Anything that the thieves couldn't fit in their sleeves or pockets would go in those bags.

It was so easy. They practically danced around the enemies, fluidly scraping through the spaces the large bodies left for them. They focused on pilfering as much as they could before engaging in combat. But once they  _did_  fight, they made sure to leave their personalities behind.

Anna was more graceful and whimsical. She had more experience first of all, but her favorite Levin Sword flitted in the air like a butterfly—its blinding electric attacks were more like a bee's sting, however, and thousands of times more lethal. She afforded showing off more, and played with her enemies as if they were children at best. She jumped on their shoulders, leaped from their heads, and blasted their limbs off in the same motion. Oh, she loved being a trickster. It was so satisfying to that sadistic side of hers, one that demanded entertainment as much as bloodshed. She got it in one full sweep, too.

The biggest challenge she had on her own was a large berserker, who nearly cut her head off with his domineering ax. It was bigger than her whole body, probably, and she vaguely wondered how he was able to hold it in the air. It mattered not, however, as she dodged each blundering hit after another. When she grew weary of dodging, she aimed her sword at his chest and fired two powerful bolts.

The man stuttered and seized up before falling to the ground like a fish out of water. He ran out of air soon and remained limp and heavy at her feet.  _Oh well,_ she thought,  _that's just how business goes._ She tiptoed over him to set upon her next victim, and then the next after that.

Gaius, on the other hand, was more straightforward. While he could play as well as Anna or the next thief, he would rather get to the point than dance around. He dodged what needed to be dodged, and he attacked where it was necessary. He wasn't as cruel as she was, in this respect, as he tried his best to—at the very least—incapacitate his opponents. Should he have to kill them, then he was very gracious and gave them the swiftest end he could.

Sadly, these brutes were rather high in defense so it took some time to cut them down.  _But that's their damned fault,_ Gaius said,  _they should have just given up._

His style of fighting complemented Anna's quite well, and they were up against one of the strongest fighters in the whole damn cave at the same time. The man in charge of The Brilliant Bunch (a name that they heard be repeated and slaughtered multiple times) was right in front of them. He was at least seven feet tall, with a bulk to match to his height. He heaved axes and swords all at once, and seemed to wonder which weapon would be best to kill his opponents with.

"I've decided," he said, "that I'm axing  _your_ head off first and I'm slicing  _him_ in half." He pointed at Anna, then Gaius respectively. Such a threat would have scared anyone, but these were thieves that were highly seasoned in their practice. They weren't afraid in the least, and felt some semblance of guilt for that. They didn't cry out in fear either. They just tried not to laugh, instead.

"We'll see about that, big guy." Anna taunted him by wagging a finger in his face. "Don't you know? Some swords are better than others. The best ones are the ones that do  _this._ " She pushed him back with two electric bolts of the Levin Sword, and smiled as he seemed to stumble. However, he quickly regained himself, and countered her grin with one of his own.

"Not bad, sweetheart. Such a shame you can't do more." He threw one of his axes  _at_ Anna, and she barely dodged it without it taking the top of her head off. Gaius flinched inwardly, but held his body to minimum standard. Instead of faltering, he helped her stand up, and covered her as he threw daggers at his opponent.

The slim blades placed themselves neatly in his elbows, and he screamed at their discomfort. While it was easy to pull them out, Gaius' corkscrew technique (or so he calls it) embedded the knives in such a way that they could not be removed with ruining the arm in general—twisting the meat and sinew around and spewing more blood as a result.

Anna smiled and attacked again, this time the magic bolts of Levin seemingly doing more damage. "Oh, what's wrong? Is this more than you bargained for?"

"Cowards!" he hollered at them. "Half wits! Dastards! Fuckin' cowards! Fight me one-on-one, why don't you?"

"Idiot," Gaius scolded, "You're so weak! What kind of leader are you? Well, don't answer that, 'cause I know what kind you'll  _be._ " A devious smirk crossed his face, and he concealed throwing knives between his knuckles. The other suspected nothing as he continued on with his taunts. " _A dead one._ "

It was a precious second in time where Gaius' actions followed his words immediately. He threw his arm forward, and extended his hand so that the throwing knives could be forcefully launched out from in between his fingers. They shot forward as straight and true as an arrow, and stuck themselves in the worst place possible.

Those silvery blades, thin but sharp and precise, lodged themselves right in the enemy's  _eyes._ The man screamed in an unholy matter, and stumbled backward with a pathetic stagger. Anna, for once, was quite forgiving as she jumped into the air, and shot him with the full force blow of her magic sword. Within seconds, the man died, but not before groaning out as loudly as he could for all to hear. "They've...won...do...it..."

But his words fell on deaf ears as Anna and Gaius quickly stole back the goods he was guarding. Gilded chests full of silver and gold, priceless jewels cut into shapes on necklaces and bracelets—even decorated goblets and picture frames laid there! It was almost unbelievable, and the two redheads would have been distracted by their innate greed, were it not for the righteous outbursts of the enemies in front of them.

Anna looked to Gaius and smiled to him, crimson eyes sparkling with delight. He noticed her elation and matched it for his own. "That was sweet," he commented, holding his hand out for her.

She quickly grabbed it, and gave it a good shake. "Definitely," she agreed.

...

On the mages' side of the cave (the near opposite of where Anna and Gaius were), things were going just as well if not a little slower. It seemed that the enemies closest to their position were the least prepared for some stupid reason, and they fell in seconds' time as they were virtually unarmed. Those that  _were_ ready for combat still met similar fates as their weakness to magic was more than just a rumor.

It was reality.

Their saving grace would be facing against Ricken. The boy preferred Arcwind more than anything, as the spell would allow him to blow enemies away or incapacitate them in ways that they would not have to fight anymore—or worse, get back up and risk getting killed by his less merciful allies. Very rarely did his spells actually kill someone, and everyone figured it was his youth and goodwill that made him work that way.

Otherwise, the other mages were quite brutal. Miriel preferred fire and lightning, and was quite satisfied when some uncouth fighter collapsed to a burning crisp, or a scheming archer received cardiac arrest from an electric shock before dying. While the woman herself was not particularly sadistic or mean, she felt as if life was precious and there were statistical errors made if one could not protect themselves against a simple magic attack.

 _These asinine knaves deserve this for their incompetence, if nothing else._ She thought harshly to herself, adjusting her frames whilst doing so. She couldn't dwell too long on her inner thoughts, though, as she had a formation to keep. She flanked the right side, with Tharja to her left and Maribelle some feet behind her. Any break in the line would be disastrous, so her wits were sharper than usual.

The female dark mage was rather quiet, except for some cruel jests she saved for her enemies. Whenever she was particularly annoyed, however, her comrades noticed it when she was much louder than she usually was, and even went so far as to laugh in the face of the death. She didn't hesitate to drown a mercenary in their own spurting blood, or to cast an illusion that would make one enemy attack his allies out of confusion. It was a rather impressive show, if not slightly barbaric.

And next to Tharja, coincidentally, was Ricken himself. Being stuck between the darkest of magic users in the army made him queasy, and quite contrasting as his winds were far more benevolent than their dark curses. Still, he appreciated them for what they were, and was sincerely glad they were on the Shepherds' side and not against them.

Henry, taking the far left side and thus protecting Lissa behind him, thought the same. He didn't really care if it was Chrom he was fighting for (because he knew he could kill that prince easily if he wanted to), but it was friends like Ricken and the others that made him grateful all the same. It would not be as fun to be in the Plegian army still, and it was not just because his king had been defeated once.

It was mainly because he would never have had this chance to be so openly violent and stand out for it. Most Plegians were as bloodthirsty as he was, but in the mainly-Ylissean forces he stood out quite well. That recognition fueled him somehow, as if reminding him he had a penchant for violence and the macabre that no one else (save Tharja) had.

As he blasted heads off of enemies with Flux, or slowly stole their life force with Nosferatu, he felt all the more empowered. Seeing Ricken's expression, however, was not as empowering. It was troubling as he seemed to be wide-eyed again, and ever at a loss for words.

There was a word for this, Henry believed. He was sure it was called  _fear._

 _Maybe I should try something else,_ he thought,  _Ricken's making such a weird face. I don't like it._

For the boy's sake, Henry switched to an Arcfire he also brought with him, and settled for setting his offenders on fire. It was just as gruesome, but not nearly as spectacular as dark magic so for  _that,_ Ricken seemed thankful and eased up somewhat. Henry smiled at his efforts and spoke to him in the moments between their fights.

"Relax, friend! It's gonna be alright~" He reassured him. "I've blown off more heads than I can count! Just kidding! I counted thirteen!"

"Jeez, you keep count? I mean, sometimes I do so I can write back to my folks but I'd never try to tally it up like that." The mage's countenance fell, and remained that way as he blew another enemy far away from their formation with Arcwind. "There's, what, fifty of them? And you took down thirteen out of that fifty? That's a lot for just one person."

"Statistically," Miriel spoke out, "it's close to the average. Fifty people divided by the six of us offensive units...at the very least, each of us should have eradicated at least eight enemies to be warranted as efficient. Since Henry is doing so well one of us is probably lacking in numbers."

"That's not going to be  _me,_ " Tharja muttered, and aimed her magic at an oncoming thief. It was her beloved Waste tome, and she watched as the enemy before her became an unidentifiable blob of flesh and clothing. Satisfied with her work, she repeated a single number beneath her breath.  _"Nine, nine, nine. I've killed nine._ " Then a frown appeared on her face. She asked herself—more loudly this time—if nine was enough. Hopefully it was, as the number of enemies in relation to the number of Shepherds was starting to lower. There wouldn't be many people left to add to her kill count.

The last enemy that the mage line faced was another male berserker. He seemed like the kind of guy to be a right hand man, and based on the look of fury and indignation on his face, Henry guessed that was exactly this guy's position. He aimed for the male dark mage in particular, raising a bright and silvery ax into the air.

"Die, Plegian scum!"

"I haven't heard  _that one_ before!" Henry quipped, finding the situation unbelievably humorous. His snarky words only worked to further incite the enemy's anger, and he came hurdling at him like a bull seeing red. He anticipated the enemy's moves all the same as he seemed as bulky and clueless as the next fighter did. So, with a bit of a flourish, Henry moved to his right in order to dodge what he believed to be an attack in the other direction—that of his left.

He was  _wrong._ He jumped right into the direction of the attack, and everyone bore witness to this harrowing mistake. That stupid grin of his was still evident, but it did falter significantly. The sudden excitement caused his mind to ignore whatever fake expression he was making, as the imagined sight of blood and guts came to mind and overpowered any other thought process.

Then it hit. The blade of the ax cut into Henry's left shoulder, squarely and surely slicing through whatever thin muscle lay there. It was a decisive attack for sure, and the spray of blood that resulted from the contact flew out in a decided line, staining the attacker and attacked in equal spatter marks. Lissa screamed frantically, for the man encroached closer to her location, and if he really got past Henry then the healer girl would be done for.

Painfully enough, the berserker removed his ax as he raised it again in an attempt to slice Henry's head open. He didn't have time to react to anything, but was stunned into silence as the man fell backward.

A large, crackling beam of lightning shot directly into his head, no doubt frying whatever loose meat it found inside of him. His eyes rolled backward and his tongue hung loose from his mouth. His nose exploded with streams of blood as did his ears, and with that gruesome image he fell backward and onto the ground.

Dead.

Henry looked, and was shocked to see Miriel's hand in the air, a page of Katarina's Bolt falling out from her tome. Her chest beat wildly as the action was no doubt taken on impulse, but seeing its desired effect caused her to straighten up and gain hold of herself.

Everyone was speechless. Lissa wordlessly ran to his side and tried to heal the deep cut the berserker had caused. She pointed her shiny staff at the injured area, and muttered a few healing words under her breath. The effects were immediate as Henry's gash began to close, and some of the blood dried up. The  _pain_ lingered on, however, and for that he was not as grateful as he should have been. But he smiled nonetheless, as he always did.

The others gathered around him, seeing as the enemies on their side of the cave had all been dealt with. Even Maribelle, who was usually disgusted by Henry as a whole, seemed concerned for him. "Henry, are you alright? That was a nasty blow you received."

"It was," Ricken assented, reaching out to place his hand over the male Plegian's. "I didn't see that coming. I should have acted faster. Sorry."

"Do not take this as a moment of regret," Miriel, the hero of the moment, had said. "It is a learning lesson. You can't predict what an enemy will do. At least not on your own. It was smart thinking of you, to move towards Ricken's direction a normal brute would think of hitting away from a potential opponent. Still, you fought someone that was vastly seasoned, so you are not to blame." She said this all in a calculated tone, but everyone knew this was the closest thing to comfort she could provide.

It humored Henry nonetheless, who gave a dismissive wave of hand and grinned widely despite the pain.

"Oh, you  _guuuuys_ ~ You flatter me! If you don't stop I'll drop dead just like that guy wanted, haha!"

...

After some time, the end chamber of the immense cave became empty. Everyone that was not a Shepherd was dead or incapacitated, with little difference in between. Gaius had the honor of dealing with the very last enemy, and perhaps it was the fatigue settling in but he was more merciful in dealing with them than usual.

The last bandit standing of The Brilliant Bunch was a young, female myrmidon. Gaius was not soft on her because of her gender—especially since he killed a good amount of females in the past moments, too—but because he was more tired than anything, and the youthful look on her face made him think to be kind as she had much more to live for than this. So he punched her in the face to knock her out, and when she lay unresponsive he left the scene to join the others.

At this point, they were going over their prospects, and gawking in awe of the haul they acquired. Anna was quick on her feet and threw as many of the goods as she could into the enchanted convoy bag, thinking how impressed Robin would be with their combined efforts. "And whatever we don't send back right now," she said, "would be recovered by the excavation team later. So no worries about that."

"Like I would worry," Gaius snickered, "but I see your point. No, what I need right now is a breather. Haven't been through a mob like that in a while."

"You two were quite impressive in your agility," Miriel commented, "and the only major injuries our side sustained were on Henry's account."

As if she spoke some magic words, Gaius immediately looked towards Henry in an incredibly worried way. Brows were drawn precariously and there was a lightly-etched concern in his green eyes.  _Junior got hit? That's an unlucky dastard if I've ever seen one._ Despite these comments to alleviate the severity of the situation, Gaius remained fixated on the other. He couldn't look away in that moment if he wanted to.

A good moment or so passed, and only when Henry turned to look at Gaius, did the Ylissean avert his eyes. The Plegian laughed, as if knowing some big secret about Gaius despite not knowing a thing about him past their silly fights. Still, he reveled in irking the other in small ways, so he pretended that he knew it all and kept gallivanting in such a manner.

"Oh, brother! I scored the highest in kills today, I think." Henry boasted, as if the amount of death caused was something to be happy about. "Wish I could've blown that dastard to bits, though! The one that hurt me." He clarified, a deep agitation hidden in the implications of his otherwise cheery voice. The vengeance was important but what was dead was dead and there was no killing something twice. Unless it was a Risen, of course, and there was no Risen to be seen here. No, they managed to kill regular, living people without too many worries. That, in Henry's mind, was quite impressive.

"You'd get more if you were more than just a dark mage," Tharja said. "We've both shown our potential to be better. We should consider becoming something greater. What say to you of becoming a sorcerer?" A fiendish smile graced her features, and she placed one hand precariously on her hip. "We deserve it, after today."

"I've always wanted to be better at what I'm already super good at~" Henry agreed. "I don't see why we shouldn't try! Maybe Robin will give us the seal of approval, haha. The  _master seal_  of approval." He laughed at his own joke, knowing fully well that Robin would allow any of the Shepherds to unlock their own potential on their own accord. Still, the soldiers usually sought out Robin's opinion and that was what mattered in the end.

"We could all do that!" Lissa called from her spot atop the gold pile. "We deserve a promotion, right? Maybe some rest and a nice visit to some hot springs..."

"My dear, we could certainly indulge. War is a tough time without some luxuries to pamper ourselves with!" Maribelle seemed keen on the idea, and turned to Ricken to share her excitement with. "Yes, doesn't your family have a resort in the countryside, Ricken? How lovely to take a break from all this wartime for some relaxation."

"I'm not going back until this war's finished," Ricken insisted, "besides we should probably focus on the now. We need to think about clearing the bodies, and taking this gold back." He seemed worried for some reason, and looked around the room as if there were a hidden threat they should be dealing with. "What if we leave and some other thieves take this stuff? Or worse, reinforcements get here? That'd be  _so_ annoying."

"Then less talking and more moving!" Anna shouted, looking up from the chests she was unlocking. "There's weapons here, too. We better get this stuff out before someone comes and arms themselves. Or better yet, they grab their friends and form a new group like The Brilliant Bunch we just dealt with." A coy smile appeared before she gave way to laughter altogether. "Seriously, what a joke! This was the least brilliant bunch I'd ever met. They fell like doormats before us."

"It does not do well to speak of the dead," Miriel decided, "even if some of them aren't dead. I think a few here and there are simply unconscious, so we'd best further along the process with haste."

The Shepherds were distracted with their rewards among other things, and failed to see Miriel's argument more clearly. Not  _everyone_ was knocked away from the Shepherds, and this showed itself in a single body was moving righteously towards their goal. It just so happened to be the female myrmidon that Gaius had spared earlier—one that he assumed had been knocked out from the punch he gave her.

While slightly concussed and badly beaten otherwise, the girl still had fight left in her. But she did not desire the world outside of her comrades. This thievery was all she knew how to, and now that her allies lay mostly dead, there was only one option left. It had been referred to as the thing to "truly end the Shepherds", and she was aware that by enacting it, she would be surely putting an end to herself as well.

But she didn't care. Her father—their leader—was gone. Her friends and family had all perished. Only a select few remained conscious, but with their injuries and enlistment as criminals they would not last long after this. To hear the so-called 'heroic' Shepherds speak so casually about life was more than disheartening. It was the fuel needed for the fire to burn so intensely and brightly, nothing but ash would lay in its wake.

The myrmidon grunted, but tried to conceal the pained noises escaping her mouth. Just a few more seconds, and the pain would all disappear. She would have died fighting, and died trying to end a group so self-righteous that they think themselves above others. Above life, death and everything in between. It disgusted her to know them, but soon she would know not a thing else.  _This is it,_ she thought.  _Here goes nothing._ She sat up, and placed her hand on a switch that would activate everything at once. She gathered her breath, and then screamed as loudly as she could. She screamed until her chest would explode into torn bits. She screamed until blood from her torn vocal chords would spew through her teeth. She screamed her soul out of her body into one big declaration.

"Go to  _hell,_ Shepherds!"

The Shepherds in question turned around all at once, overtaken by mixed emotions of surprise and fear. They watched helplessly as the girl—the very same girl that Gaius decided to spare—used the last of her strength to activate a switch within the ground. She laughed quietly as she did so, and slumped down to accept her fate.

Within seconds, the very room changed. Bright lights appeared suddenly, and the walls started to crumble and shake. An earsplitting noise was heard, such that a natural reaction by some of the Shepherds was to cover their ears. The hills of gold shook and dissipated, and a force from behind the walls shot bits of earth and gold coins across the room.

There was a mad scramble for escape. Anna and Gaius stuffed whatever was around them into their bags, then abandoned the rest of it as they ran with the others towards the exit. They thought they would find reprieve there, but they were wrong.

The whole cave was coming apart. There were small explosions to their sides and above their heads, whilst jewels and rocks dislodged from their place in the walls. Some shattered into sharp fragments, whilst others became blunt projectiles that threatened the safety of the runaway Shepherds. Their screams coupled with the din of the exploding caves and formed one disharmonious chorus of disparage and fear.

Henry couldn't help thinking that they underestimated those guys all along. Whether by mechanical wiring or a special spell set to activate by will, their surroundings were coming apart disgracefully in the most dangerous way possible. This was the threat to end all threats, the real enemy that lay within the cave chambers they just raided. With an awful realization, the Shepherds finally knew that they were playing into their enemy's hands this entire time.

It was terrible, and their attempt at escape was no better than this. Every time they came to another opening, the cave fell apart and blocked their path with falling debris, so they had to run screaming in another direction. There wasn't a time where they had run this much in their entire life—not even in Frederick's Fanatic Fitness Hour  _I wish I was there,_ Henry suddenly thought,  _it's less painful than this!_

After some twists and turns, they finally came across paths that weren't immediately blocked by the crumbling surroundings. They even managed to catch their hurried breaths in that short moment in time, albeit the fear did nothing to comfort them further from that. It seemed that there was a split in directions. One tunnel headed right, the other stretched to the left. There was chaos erupting about them concerning which way to go.

"Let's go right!" Anna screamed, but could not be heard over the deafening noise. "Right!"

"Left!" Gaius yelled, while also trying to shield Lissa and Maribelle underneath his arm. "Gods dammit, just move! It doesn't matter which one!"

Miriel, who still found time to scribble in her notebook, called out over the others. "I think we should also go left, because I remember—"

"—Everyone, watch out!" Ricken screamed as loud as he could, and took cover in that same instant.

The explosives that were going off were numerous all of a sudden, such that the very air warped around them. It became thick and heavy with smoke and static, and a bright light flashed that blinded everyone who bore witness to it. Their surroundings grew so loud that it actually became quiet for a moment—signaling to Henry that what was happening was so noisy that his own mind could not comprehend it.

He felt someone drag him down, presumably to prompt him take cover of his own. They yelled "Take cover!" over his shoulder to further emphasize this idea. The sounds were still deafening, and he could tell that if he opened his eyes he would be worse for wear. It was better to stay quiet, stay down, and stay covered. Be that as it may, Henry could not help himself and opened his eyes as widely as they would go.

He watched as rubble from the ceiling and the outside nature piled into a wall of sorts, one that separated the room into two sides. He didn't have to look to know that their group would be separated, and nothing would be able to prevent that. It was like seeing bricks fall one by one into cemented slots, only messier and less appealing. Through the small window of vision he had, Henry could make out someone on the other side looking right at him.

It was Gaius.

They hated each other up to this point. They said awkward things around each other and didn't bother with mending a relationship that grew rocky to start with. Yet despite this negativity in their history, they seemed genuinely interested in one another. Perhaps fear and adrenaline let them put their past aside, if only for a moment. Perhaps their inner, human morality edged them to be aware of their lives flashing before their eyes. Either way, they stared at each other in this precious instant in time.

Their expressions were like night and day. Henry wore a smile—the only thing he knew how to express—albeit the corners of his lips quivered and a sinister gleam settled itself in the dark lavenders of his irises. Still, he appeared more frail than usual, as he weakly raised a hand to gesture out to Gaius. If he would, he'd grab the other's hand and let him know he never anticipated such an outcome. He would reach out and let him know that he'd take it all back if he could just be anywhere else in the world right now.

Gaius, on the other hand, was grimacing. His face was contorted in such a desperate expression that Henry couldn't believe it was the same guy from before. He seemed so helpless and so lost, which contrasted with his previously cool exterior. He looked like he needed guidance, but he knew that Henry wasn't the one to give it to him. He knew that Henry could do nothing to lessen those incredibly burdened eyes of his—those that were green and shaking like the earth above and below them. Still, he reached out for him as if that gesture meant anything, and screamed out into the dusty air.

"Henry!"

It was too late for the Plegian to respond in kind as the wall filled itself to the top, creating a firm boundary on either side of the cave in. The gap which Henry was using to look at Gaius through was now closed, and the separation was finalized. The noise started to die down as only the sifting dirt—combined with laborious breaths, that is—was audible.

The boy's heart sank from the weight of it all, and he sprawled out on the hard, uncomfortable ground in defeat. The situation was not at its best right now, if he was being honest with himself. He had shards in his skin and dust in his eyes. And while some part of him wished to be crushed underneath the rocks, he was slightly glad that he wasn't. He would never have gotten to hear Gaius say his  _real name_ for once if he had. And for some unknown, inappropriate reason, that made Henry beam. It made him happy to think that. It made the ends of his face stretch out to their usual place, if not going a bit farther.

This time, however, he knew why that was happening; he knew why his smile had formed, and it was not because of his past trauma or emotional incompleteness. Maybe, just  _maybe_ , he smiled because a revelation had been given out. That maybe, just  _maybe_ —they were starting to  _care_ for each other.

 _Maybe_.


	8. Errors and Escapes

For a very long time, nothing happened. As things lay were as they were, it felt as if nothing would ever happen again. Despite the hustle and bustle the cave once had, the moment it stopped it seemed as if time had frozen in place. There was too much life before, and now the consequences of death had showed themselves. No one spoke, moved, or dared to breathe too noisily in this uncharacteristic quietude.

No one did anything.

In Henry's case, he was particularly fazed by the noise, and found that his ears rung for several minutes straight before behaving as they usually did. His sight was also dizzy. He had his eyes open (a rarity to behold from an onlooker's point of view, honestly) as he stared blankly at a particular jewel in the ceiling. It was cracked indefinitely on one side, but somehow held together wholly. It was deep red in color, and so very reminiscent of blood that the dark mage lay entranced in its beauty.

When his eyes hurt from the strain of it all, he was forced to avert his gaze. He stared at his hands and examined them over—dirty and bloodied like he pictured them to be—before moving them in a feeble attempt. The fingers curled in on themselves but made no further effort. Henry grunted quietly then sighed.

This was much harder than he thought it was going to be.

He tried once more to bring life into his hands, and nearly cheered for himself when he could raise his right arm into the air. He forced the other arm to follow, and before he knew it he was pulling himself up from his position on the ground. The instant he did so, however, he found his vision and head swimming with uncertainty. His feet shook as if on a boat, and his body shivered badly. After cursing (in the non lethal way) beneath his breath, the dark mage pushed himself up, and got on his knees to sturdy himself. It worked for the most part, and when he glanced up he could see one of his allies just an arm's length away from his body. Judging by the fragmented cage wire and splash of gold, he figured it was Princess Lissa. He always compared her to a bird, somehow, and if that were the case then this was the first time he saw her wings properly clipped. A streak of red stained her back, and leaked through what must have been expensive silk clothing.

It was just a big mess now, but he still had to admire her style. He crawled towards her, seeing as his strength was not good enough to walk yet. She was definitely breathing, and when he shook her slightly he was pleased to see her stir gradually. A low groan escaped her mouth as she struggled to sit upright. When she finally did it, Henry reached his hand out to steady her shoulders.

He beamed at her. "Hey, you're still alive! I was thinking that the explosion blew you apart into little princess bits, but it's cool that it didn't!"

The royal girl scoffed, and gave a weak slap to the other's face. He barely moved at the motion. "Seriously? Now's  _not_ the time for jokes...especially  _your_ jokes. It's too early to start celebrating, anyway! W-We could have  _died!_ "

"But we didn't!" Henry stated. "From what I can see I'm alive, you're alive, Miriel over there is alive—somehow writing in that dastardly book of hers—and Anna's alive, too! So it's not too bad." He reported his observations as he looked over the younger girl's shoulder; he could see the two women up and lively for themselves.

"Then the others are on the opposite side?" Lissa stared at the formidable wall, positive that she would not be able to dig through it. "Oh, that's just great. Maribelle's probably freaking out about me now."

"Yeah, if she isn't  _dead._ I mean, I can only account for what I see and what I  _see_ is us four. Maybe the others got crushed under the rubble. Wanna start shoveling?"

"Henry!" She screamed, slapping him harder this time. He recoiled and fell on his ass, but she ignored him and continued. "What's wrong with you? Don't say stuff like that!"

"He's not wrong," Miriel cut in, stumbling her way over to join her injured allies. Her composed face was somewhat comforting, but at the same time it was unnerving as she seemed unaffected by what just happened. She added on to her earlier statement. "Statistically speaking, if there are no deaths, then the probability of mild to serious injury is very high. And there is no telling how much space this wall takes up on their side, so to speak. They could be alive now but suffocated later. Perhaps they're screaming for help this very moment and their voices are unable to penetrate through the thickness of the barrier." Her bespectacled gaze looked onward. "That's very possible, too."

"You're making it worse," Lissa croaked, "please stop."

"I'm with the princess." Anna agreed. "Don't just  _talk_ about what  _might_ happen. Why don't we get up and see the developments for ourselves?" Her tone was bright and cheery, but her body was wobbling. Her impeccably red trickster garb was also torn in several places—especially in those that revealed the extent of her injuries in dark red wounds festering in their own pain. It looked like it hurt but she put on a brave face.

Henry could relate, if only a little. He found resolve and sprung to his feet, only to fall over and need to grab the wall for support. It was as sturdy as it seemed and did not move underneath his (minimal) weight, however. He righted himself before speaking.

"Let's go, then! What do we got to lose?"

"Our lives," Lissa deadpanned, "but alright. It's better than doing nothing." She slowly rose to her feet but immediately keeled over in her haziness. Henry's arms instinctively reached out to grab her, and he propped her against the wall for more support.

"Are you okay?" He asked her routinely, the words lacking true concern. She didn't seem to notice as she only nodded.

"I'm fine, thank you." She muttered to him. "I'm...still dizzy, it seems."

"Aren't we all?" Anna laughed weakly. "That's alright, though. You take your time. We're all good. Miriel, you're good, right?"

"Of course." She answered immediately, not wanting to seem weak in this situation—despite the tremor in her hands giving away otherwise. "I'm perfectly content as I can be. Shall we head off, then?" Her eyes stared downward into the tunnel, looking back and forth between the two directions. She didn't remember which way they came from, but she felt like it hardly mattered in a time like this.

Luckily, the rest of the group started moving on their own accord, and the scholar took a moment of thought before she trailed the back of them, furiously writing in the margins of the torn pages in her remaining books. They were records of observations, studies, and the like—and in some cases she may admit that some of the entries were similar to common diaries—but all in all she wrote a single sentence at the very top.

 _Evening, now,_ it began to say,  _hope revives itself from the ashes._

...

On the other side of the barrier was what remained of the group. Gaius was unfortunate as ever to remain conscious throughout the entire ordeal. His body lay spread-eagle on the ground, his eyes fixating themselves on a particularly bright green gem in the ceiling. The thief's mind was a puzzle whose pieces fell apart one by one. As he lay there, the mentality of his processes began to work itself back into one big, coherent picture. Until then, he found that staring into that verdant light was very comforting.

When his thoughts started making sense, he dreaded the fact that this all happened because he decided to be merciful in a single scenario. Why, out of all the blokes in that cave, did the one  _Gaius_ decide to spare end up being the one to screw them over like this? What happened to common sense and decency these days? The thief was so embarrassed that he firmly resolved within him that should anyone ask him what happened after this, he would pretend not to know. It would kill him out of humiliation and shame more than anything.

For now, he supposed he should focus on survival. He knew for sure that Henry was out of reach—he saw the boy's injured gaze across the way only moments ago. There was no way that Gaius could worry about him, so he forced himself to sit up and look for allies there  _were_ within reach. Near his feet he saw Maribelle. The duchess was unconscious by the looks of it, and her golden tresses splayed from out behind her in dirty, tangled clumps. The thief could make out slivers of blood on her person, and slightly flinched as the thought of her death flashed across his mind.  _Gods,_ he thought,  _she's not really dead, is she...?_

As he inched forward, his breath exhaled in relief as he saw the slow rise and fall of her chest. She seemed pale and sickly, though, such that when Gaius shook her mildly she did not stir. With his gloved hands, he even pulled the woman up to sit on her own accord—but she slumped over like a sack of potatoes and nearly collapsed into the male's arms.

He groaned.  _Of all the times to clock out, Twinkles, you had to do it now, couldn't you?_ As soon as he thought that he mentally reprimanded himself for such negativity. While he knew he shouldn't blame her for her sudden blackout—especially considering what had just happened—he wished it had happened at a more convenient time. He did not have smelling salts or any other tricks that could rouse her, and the longer she lay on the floor the more vulnerable they were in this position.

"That's no way to do it," a mirthless voice called out, one that could only belong to Tharja. Gaius felt her presence standing over him, but he didn't bother himself to look at her yet.

"Then what do  _you_ suppose we do, Sunshine?" He chided.

She stared into Gaius' figure as if doing so would set him ablaze. He remained perfectly flame-free as she continued speaking. " _Obviously,_ I'll have to curse her. She can take a royal beauty nap  _later,_ when our prospects aren't so... _grim._ " The woman seemed genuinely concerned about their situation, and that relieved Gaius to know. It also surprised him because he figured that she would simply accept their awful fate, for she was particularly dark and grim herself when she wanted to be. Instead she held back on herself, however, and for that Gaius was extremely impressed.

And he was extremely worried, too. His voice did not hide any of his true feelings. "Your curse isn't gonna hurt her, is it? While she's annoying as all hell I'd rather she get through this with us in one piece."

"Ha, you think I don't already know that?" Tharja hissed. "The curse will keep her awake...perhaps a day or two longer than she'd like. But even a brute like you can agree with me when I say that having her up and miserable is much better than having to drag her sleeping body around." Her eyes were piercing, but not furious. She was trying to make him see her point, something that she was actually succeeding in doing.

He gave a nod of consent, and rose to his feet to the best of his ability. When the initial wobbles faded away, he took a step back to let Tharja do her work. She rolled her neck and stretched her arms, then reached into her pouch for something essential. Just as she would have pulled it out, however, something intervened.

"Wait!" Another voice shouted. Gaius hardly recognized it, but a name was starting to form in his head.  _Ricken is his name, right?_ He shrugged at the thought.  _Friend of Junior's, if I'm not mistaken. A_ nd he was not mistaken in the least as the young mage bounded over, adjusting the overly large hat on his head. It obscured his face at a tilted angle, but even in the shadows the others could see the deeply etched concern on his face. "Tharja, I think you and Henry were talking about curses earlier, right?"

"Yes, that's correct." She confirmed. "What of it?"

"Well, don't you need a... _sacrifice_ for the curse to work better?" He shuddered at the thought, and pulled feebly at the edge of his sleeves. "I don't see any animals around here, so I'm not sure how that's going to play out."

"Lucky for us then, because I've already gained a sacrifice. A borrowed one it may be but it'll serve us well." She produced the small, dead squirrel carcass that Henry had insisted she have earlier. The cadaver was lying in the entrance in the cave, and the white-haired male rambled on about divination and how he had a feeling that Tharja would need something like it later on.

He was right, as insufferable and annoying as he may have been about the matter. The woman thought darkly to herself that she should purposely avoid thanking him on her own accord, but if that fool brought it up should would confess that his offering did come in handy like he said it would. But maybe that was too cruel, even for her. Someone as forthright and proactive about learning new things and coming up with results like her would know better than to keep secrets all the time. She supposed that if she survived this whole ordeal, she would tell Henry of her gratitude in full.

Finding that resolve within herself, Tharja ignored the males as she focused on Maribelle. She placed the animal next to the duchess' body, and started muttering a dark incantation underneath her breath. A sickly yellow light enveloped the poor creature, and she garnered that light within her hands as if it were tangible. Then, she aimed her fingers at Maribelle. Upon doing so, the stream of light shot forward like a bolt, and engulfed the noble in her entirety.

She violently awoke and gasped loudly as a result. Sitting upright, she brought a manicured hand to her chest where she tried to stay her erratic heartbeat. A bead of sweat ran down her face, and in her rose-like eyes, Gaius and Ricken noticed she seemed highly energetic and  _awake, j_ ust like Tharja implied she would be. Maribelle breathed for a moment or so, then spoke out harshly.

"What just happened?" She sounded incredulous, like she couldn't believe she was also awake right now. "What's going on?"

"You were sleeping. The explosion must have knocked you out, Twinkles." Gaius answered her clearly and carefully, so as not to shock her upon consciousness. "Take a moment, but when you're feeling better we really gotta get going—"

"—LISSA!" She screeched, suddenly scrambling to her feet and looking around her. When she could not find the princess in question, she became more hysterical. "Oh, Gods, where is she? Where's Lissa? And the others? Don't tell me they're under the rubble because we have to do something! We have to—"

"Get a hold of yourself, woman!" Gaius demanded as he shook Maribelle by the shoulders. He bore his acidic stare into her, hoping to get his point across more than anything. "Do you hear yourself? Panicking is the  _last_ thing we should do."

Maribelle stood wide-eyed for a moment, but became incredibly livid in the next. She swatted Gaius' arms away and started to yell. "Then just  _what_ do you suppose we do? Forget about them? Press on without her? Look for an escape whilst leaving our dearest comrades behind in this mess? If that is your solution to this problem, then frankly I wished you would have left me to sleep."

Before he could make her eat her words, someone else stepped in to alleviate the situation. "Maribelle," Ricken began, "we're not saying that we should just abandon them. But the best way to save them is to find an escape route. If we just start hurling spells at this wall, it could collapse and hurt someone. And let's say we  _do_ meet up with them. Unless we find a way out of this place we'd all be stuck together—we'd all be  _doomed._ S-So, let's calm down, okay?" He had confidence right up to the very end, but when everyone's gaze turned on him at once he felt himself wither.

They were thankfully more surprised by his calm and mature sentiments more than anything else. Maribelle, especially, took these words to heart as she clutched the ends of her tattered parasol, and gave a small nod to his notion.

"I-I see. You're right, Ricken. It was foolish of me to have made such an outburst like that. I was so worried about Lissa and the others I didn't stop to think about how to actually save them in the best way possible. I understand now," she recited the words calmly, exhaling loudly to shake off the anxiety that had her in its clutches. And while Tharja scoffed at the sentimental display, Gaius seemed rather pleased and hid a small smile out of view from the others.

"Glad that worked out like it did," Gaius said. "Let's get a move on. The more time we waste the more likely we are to stay trapped in this place forever. Let's head this way," he advised the group, who listened to him solemnly as they began to trek on. Ricken naturally tried to take the lead, and with the other Shepherds being haphazardly awake, no one bothered to keep up with him—but they continued and kept him in their view.

Just as the thief was about to make way, he felt a small hand tap his shoulder. As he turned around, he was rather surprised to see Maribelle there, of all people. She seemed soft and apologetic, something which she never showed Gaius before. He faltered.

"What is it, Twinkles?"

"It's nothing too troubling," she insisted, pulling her hand back to her side. "I suppose that I owe you an apology. You were simply being rational and I was...quite the opposite in that moment. I shouldn't have yelled at you, considering the circumstances."

"I understand," he said, resuming his pace. The duchess followed after him reluctantly, and he continued talking. "I get where you're coming from, really. Lissa means a lot to you so I shouldn't have been so, I dunno, casual about it? Anyway," he turned his gaze away and pretended that the cracked jewels in the cave walls were more interesting than her in the moment. "It's all water under the bridge now."

"Thank you, Gaius." She said gently. "I shouldn't forget how worried  _you_ must be, after all. No doubt the state of our remaining party must irk you heavily."

He nodded, and smiled in spite of everything. He did this as a cover up, because he did not want to admit to himself—much less Maribelle—that while he was worried about Anna, Miriel, and Lissa, his mind kept focusing on  _one_  person. And the more he  _thought about_ that person, the more he realized that he must have been hit in the head for him to be so concerned as he was. When did he start caring so much about Henry, even intrinsically? Why was the Plegian's image the only one he could immediately think of in his mind? Why did it even matter to him to begin with? He couldn't answer this right away, so he left the question to hang itself dry in the air.

He put one foot in front of the other, and focused on his escape. He'd never get his answers if he died in this maze, after all. So with each move forward he kept thinking that he had to survive, because he needed to see Henry at least one more time. He had to see him, and together they would settle their differences once and for all.

And once they did so, things would be clear again, and Gaius could continue living his life as he always did.

 _At least,_  he thought, _I hope so._

...

Henry's group traversed the cave tunnels further. They went in all manner of directions, and trudged on with difficulty due to the pain and fatigue they felt. They took breaks quite often, and as the dark mage sat against the cave walls he could take everything in around him.

The paths themselves were fraught with danger, as countless shards, rocks, spikes, and other obstacles littered the floor. There were burnt out holes in the walls where the explosives were planted to begin with. Some were made of strange wiring and mechanization, while others were simple spells whose magic lay in wait behind the vibrating earth. It was impressive to see archaic magic and modern technology combine into something deadly yet meaningful, but it was such a shame that it had to be such a tragic event to trigger the marriage in the first place.

Miriel was having a field day herself as she wrote down everything she saw. Perhaps it was also her way of diffusing tension in the air, but she constantly asked her compatriots their ideas on the matter, and their opinions on the science behind it all. It was a bit of a bore to humor her, but somehow it was comforting, as well.

Henry smiled. How noble Miriel was at times, even if she often denied it in the name of research or some other scholarly pursuit. He would laugh at her if she didn't seem so shaken up in the moment. Instead, he decided to walk ahead of her, and lead the ladies behind him into another chamber.

They reached a dead end for the first time. But it was not an empty room full of dirt and rock like they suspected it was. Instead, the room was chillingly cold, and in the back center of the chamber was a large pool of water. It was cobalt blue and crystalline, yet somehow murky like someone poured liquid fog into the mix. There was an outer stream of water that poured in from the ceiling, and through there Henry could see the last remnants of the fading sunlight—that strange in between sun-and-moon light that he didn't quite know the name of, or if it had a name to begin with—pour through indelibly.

It was a beautiful sight as the beams slid off the water's surface. And the sight of water and prospect of respite in their rather tiring and stressful day was quite inviting. But as they ogled it and examined it closer, they were able to see something much more hideous and much less charming nearby.

The walls of the cave chamber were lined with skeletal remains. Some bones remained at the edge of the pool, and there were scraps of clothing and broken weapons lying in between it all. Lissa stumbled in its wake, and Anna frowned noticeably. Miriel seemed intrigued by it all, and Henry could guess at the multitude of questions running through her mind.

_Why were there skeletal remains? Is there a species of animals living in these caves that went extinct all at once? Or are these the bones of unlucky travelers? Was there something worse than the bandits or the explosives in these caves? Was the water but a mirage, produced out of the mind's despair through great hardship and strain? Is it possible to get a sample of the water itself?_

Some of these questions were answered instantaneously. At first, the earth shook, which caused the bones to start rattling in the most gruesome clamor possible. Great tremors of sound and substance started to rise from the depths of the cave itself. The Shepherds all took a step back out of caution, and they were right to do so. Because within seconds, the pool started to ripple, then part entirely as something emerged from its cloudy depths.

A large, serpentine dragon rose from the water. It was violet and black in color, but seemed to be glowing with the most unearthly aura. The way that its body sloughed off all the water without so much as a lively twitch registered something within them—causing a single word to be repeated in their heads, albeit in a questioning manner.

_Risen?_

Their experience with Risen was that they were the unfortunate souls who have already died, but were reanimated against their will by Grima. On other occasions, Risen were forcefully created by digging up bodies but the definition of those monsters was all the same. Never before had they seen a nonhuman Risen (save the Revenants and the Entombed) before, not even the dark mage Henry himself had known of such things!

But if what they were seeing was true, then it showed that the influence of the Grimleal was so strong that with the right technique, even monstrous beasts could be affected. This monster in front of them was just as deathly, and as it lowered its head to meet their gaze, its eyes opened with frightening movements.

The whole sclera of the eye was milky white and glossed over, and Henry failed to see any remnants of life within those irises. But beyond the reptilian pupils and lifeless gaze, the boy realized something.

_It was blind._

While Risen were not as functional as their living counterparts had once been, they usually had enough vision and hearing to make them formidable. This dragon, while lacking sight, seemed just as lethal as it roared ferociously, the sound of which caused some loose rocks from the ceiling to fall down.

Lissa screeched. She couldn't help it, and in her fear she made a breakneck run for the exit. The others quickly followed after her, and the sound of the undead dragon behind them was prominent as it threw itself up from the lake and slithered down the tunnel after them.

They were oblivious to the outside world for obvious reasons, but unbeknownst to them the world had turned dark. It was nighttime, and that—for some creatures—was time for  _dinner._

...

Somewhere else in the vast series of tunnels was Gaius' group, and they were headed down the left path in a fork they recently came across. They took that direction on a whim, but mostly because Maribelle insisted that they go that way. The thief was wiser than to argue with her, especially in moments of strife like these.

Soon, they came into a large chamber where several other chambers were seen. There were tunnels in multiple directions, and some that were even situated on top of each other. While it was not the worst development in this process they've had, the group knew that it would not help them to have these many different tunnels to traverse through. After all, there was no telling which way would lead them home, and which one would lead to certain death.

A loud scuttling sound was heard, and Gaius hesitated to draw his sword. He had one of those on his person somehow, and hearing the immediate sound of danger caused him to be wary. He looked between his comrades with frantic eyes.

"Did you guys hear that?"

"Yes," Tharja said. "I have no idea what that could be—" She was cut off the by the noise returning, and this time she drew a spare tome from her person, eyes accusingly bright of whatever may come into sight.

Ricken and Maribelle tensed up. Then, when the former of the two walked a little bit away from the group, he noticed something on the walls that made him feel sick. He shouted out to the others, and raised a trembling hand up into the air to point at what he was seeing. "Aren't these  _spider webs?"_ He asked aloud, motioning at the white, fibrous strings that were stuck to the walls and decorated into the ceiling.

They were unlike any common spider's web, however. The silk itself was large beyond belief, and either of the Shepherds present could have easily fitted in one of the traps. A web this big only meant one thing: the spider that  _weaved this web_ was also very, very large.

Gaius didn't particularly like spiders, although he had no qualms about squishing them with a shoe if he had to. But there were some things that refused to be traipsed on, and whatever monstrous creation that lived in here absolutely fit into that category. He retreated slowly out of fear, and felt his entire body run cold when he felt something press up against his backside.

The thief turned around to steal a glance, and his eyes were met by eight other eyes—each one larger than the size of his head. He could hear the shallow, sharp breathing of the arachnid before him, and feel with his own skin the close proximity of its spindly, hairy legs.

He had no time to signal to the others but he felt they understood what was going on right away. He grabbed Maribelle's hand—that which was closest to him at the time—and screamed out for the other two to join him in escape. Within seconds, the four of them were running for their lives as a giant, carnivorous spider seemed intent on weaving them into its dinner web tonight.

 _Gods,_ Gaius thought,  _this place is just one enemy after another! To hell with it all, I'd rather get my arse crushed under rocks than have to go through this!_ Although he was sure that either fate was just as gruesome, he figured that it would definitely be an easier reality to face than the one he was trapped in right now.

...

Henry's group was running ahead. The great undead dragon was hot on their heels, and they could hear its fearsome roars just meters behind them. At times where they lacked speed, they could even feel the awesome thrums of its footsteps and the rotten air of its breath.

So many things were going through their minds that it felt like their brains and bodies were competing to see who could go faster. For Lissa, she was simply screaming her head off, and her inner thoughts matched her outer shouts perfectly. Screaming was good for her, in a way, and once she stopped it either meant that the dragon had disappeared or she had been killed by its cold, sharp claws. Either way it gave her some reassurance that she was still alive, so she didn't bother to stop.

Miriel, on the other hand, was conflicted between her natural state of fear and her inquisitive mind. She wondered what sort of dragon that was exactly, and how strong Grima must be to extend their power so greatly beyond their control. She decided that if she ever lived to see another day, she would consult with some of the Grimleal worshipers in the army and ask them for their thoughts on the subject.

Anna was frightful, and didn't mind exposing her weakness and frailty in this moment. She was a merchant, after all, and merchants dealt with  _people,_ not monsters. This particular monstrosity was different from the gooey forms of the Entombed, and its sharp teeth indicated that all it wanted was her pretty face between its gums. She shuddered at the thought but forced her body to keep moving no matter what.

Only Henry was thinking clearly on the situation. The fact from before held true in his mind, and this dragon was as blind as a bat. There were several instances in time where the Plegian would look behind him, and he would notice the dragon's clumsiness as it occasionally ran into walls or lagged behind. After pausing for a moment (an unreadable moment, that is) it would cover its lost distance in the blink of an eye. That monster was blind, and he was sure of it! It would wait for its hearing to connect with its mind before moving.

So, if he could get his group some considerable distance away from the thing, then they might have a chance of escaping. The only big problem was Lissa, who still managed to scream every step of the way thus far. Henry knew he had to do something, so when they temporarily lost the beast in their chase, he threw his whole body weight onto the girl.

She, in turn, grabbed onto Anna's cape as she fell, and Anna's tumbling stature caused Miriel to trip over her body. This worked out conveniently, and Henry used all his willpower to push the girls to the side—hiding the four of them behind a particularly large rock jutting out from the side.

Lissa was not as fazed by the sharp rocks or fragmented crystal as she was with Henry's interruption in their escape. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably and her lips—chapped and bleeding—hung open in shock. "Henry!" She cried out to to the male, shaking him by his narrow shoulders as if doing so would snap some sense into him. "What are you  _doing?_ D-Do you want us to  _die?_  Why did we stop moving? Why did you run into me? I-I can't believe this is happening right now! Listen—"

"—Shhhh!" He whispered loudly, pressing his hands against her mouth in an attempt to gently muzzle her. "Shhhh."

He waited until she complied, and once she sat quietly the other two seemed to have calmed down as well. The only noise now was the sound of air coming out their noses, and he sighed in relief when it happened.  _We can finally talk to each other normally!_ He thought to himself, extending his smile the farthest it would go. Slowly, Henry removed his hands from Lissa's face, and let them rest as his side idly.

"That dragon is blind," he explained, "and the only reason it's still following us is because we're so loud. I'm one hundred percent sure of it."

Gray eyes seemed to widen in surprise, as the thought of logic came to bear itself in the girl's mind. She brought tremulous hands up to cover her mouth in shame, and a small gasp escaping her mouth helped to affirm how embarrassed she felt.  _But can you blame me?_ She wanted to say but didn't form words to,  _We're literally being chased by a twenty foot tall, undead dragon!_

"If that's the case," Miriel contended, "then it could also be tracking us through a heightened olfactory sense or textile sense. Our natural aromas and our footprints left behind are surely efficient enough to warrant giving chase. Being silent may not necessarily save us."

Henry's grin lessened somewhat, but he kept that confusing expression on his face affixed. He shook his head from side to side. "I don't think so. I mean, it's been underwater this whole time, right? How easy is it to smell things so well if you're basically drowning yourself each day and night? Also, it's a Risen dragon, so it doesn't have a sense of feeling to begin with. No touch, right? Just a super cool, automatic reaction to try and kill anything it touches."  _Specialty of Grima,_ he wanted to add but decided not to.

Luckily he didn't have to, as Miriel's countenance dropped in understanding and awe. "I see. I can agree with your assumptions, given the fact that my knowledge on bestial species is not as expansive as I would like it to be. Yes, if what you say holds true, then the only way it could possibly know our location is through our noise."

"So we have to be quiet?" Lissa squeaked, seemingly worried in the prospect of doing so.

Anna shared her sentiments with an equally concerned face. "That's gonna be hard to do," she argued, "since we're making all sorts of noise just by  _walking._ " To prove her point, she adjusted her foot only slightly, but the motion itself was enough to cause a loud cracking noise to be heard. The floors of the tunnels were all covered in broken fragments, that which easily made sound just by stepping on it. "This place is completely blown apart. We're really walking on eggshells, here! Er, crystal fragments, I mean."

Henry thought to himself silently, then lifted his finger into the air with a knowing motion. "I've got it. We can use some magic to confuse the big guy. We can blow something up in the opposite direction to confuse it, long enough for us to get away!"

"That sounds perfect!" Lissa marveled. "Hurry, do it now while we have time! That thing could come back for us any minute now!"

The dark mage stood up, and revealed an Arcthunder tome from his person. The book was barely touched since their success in the earlier scuffle, and he was so thankful to have so many pages to enact fury with. He turned overhead to the direction they just came from—the place that the dragon was surely beginning to approach. With a frantic and hurried motion, the boy shot a stream of electricity down the tunnel, hoping to hell that whatever the lightning hit would be loud enough to garner attention.

He was lucky in that one of the explosives from earlier had not set off. When the lightning stuck a soft spot in the wall, the whole formation burst open, creating a deafening noise that was sure to attract the attention of their unwanted pursuer.

Perhaps he was so tired that the mere sight of smoke distracted him, but Anna was quicker and cleverer than he was, so she was able to swiftly react and dragged the rest of her party with her in the other direction. "That will  _definitely_ get its attention," she assured, "so let's not be here when it does!"

The others clumsily got up to chase after her, but were soon able to recover their missteps and join the redheaded merchant in their sprint for freedom. They ran down the tunnels, chambers, and openings furiously, leaving nothing behind but scattered dust and drops of blood in their wake.

 _Finally,_ they all mused,  _we can get out of here!_

...

Gaius' party had been dashing down the tunnels for quite a time, now. Near the spider's domain they ran into plenty of skeletal remains (human and nonhuman alike), as well as cocoons that were empty and full—with old and new victims. The silk was everywhere and Gaius promptly decided that he never wanted to see another spider in his life ever again.  _If I get to survive in the first place, that is._ The grim remark echoed in his mind, and he scolded himself for such negative thinking.  _It ain't too far from the truth, though._

Still, they eventually started seeing less and less of the spider's work throughout the caves, so they figured that they escaped its personal network for the time being. That in itself was a great relief, and it was just the thing to trigger their fatigue.

They had been rushing for so long that the exhaustion eventually caught up with them, anyway. Ricken and Tharja were mages, and thus were not nearly as physically fit as Gaius. Maribelle was somewhere in between their physiques, but was thankful for the break as she carefully leaned against a giant rock for support. They were lucky that they had temporarily outmaneuvered the arachnid, but their period of respite wouldn't last long.

Tharja, however, resigned herself to the ground as she could not find energy to stand at the moment. As she lay upon the dirt, the other three noticed something very alarming near her, and did their best to be composed lest they frightened her otherwise. The reason for that being the large explosive partially revealed in the rocky walls just a mere foot or so away from the Plegian dark mage. Ricken stared at her with wide eyes, and when she noticed his expression he gently pointed to the object behind her.

She turned around and let out a deep sigh. "Here, too? How could those scumbags miss the giant spider whilst they were setting up? Didn't they see the webs, the cocoons, the bones run amok?"

"They...they probably didn't know it was here," Ricken debated. "They would have never set up camp here if they knew this giant monster was just a friendly neighborhood walk away."

"If...if that's the...case..." Maribelle heaved in between her words, and coughed up quite the storm before she could become more coherent. "If that's the case," she repeated herself, "then why didn't the spider simply kill them all? Why did it let them survive this long? It's been, what, weeks since those uncouth charlatans set up their base here? Why would it be so patient?"

"Maybe," Tharja cut in, "it was waiting for them to gather all in one spot. People...people have been going in and out, right? They..." she coughed as she struggled to catch her breath. "There are so many of them. Maybe the spider was patient because it was very,  _very_ hungry...and wanted as much to eat as possible."

Tharja smiled weakly, the expression more pathetic than it was intimidating, but somehow that was enough to send her message of fear across. "Maybe it was waiting for  _us._ "

A loud din suddenly burst forth from behind them. Its volume and force were such that they covered their ears in obvious pain. The only things racing through their minds were questions now, the common one being  _What was that?_

Appearing before them at the end of the tunnel was the spider from before. It had—of course—caught up to them, and it now trapped them in what they believed to be their hiding spot. Its gaping maw revealed haphazard fangs that seeped with latent venom. Its black, beady eyes narrowed in some triumphant manner over the threat it held against the meager humans. It was almost as if it were screaming out a silent message towards them.

_I found you._

Even more troubling was the appearance of a second adversary—a behemoth of a dragon, serpentine and undead in nature as a familiar aura engulfed its black and violet body. Its eyes were glassy and milk-stained, and murky foam frothed from its crowded mouth. All in all, it seemed to have done a truce with the spider, and the two predators were now closing in on their prey.

How the dragon got in this mess was beyond Gaius, as he had no idea it was the same beast that chased Henry's party all around the tunnels just moments ago. He was unaware of a large explosion that averted its attention and brought it here instead. Had he known, then he probably would have used that same psychic force to break the walls apart and make their daring escape, but he had no capabilities of doing so.

Rather, he resigned himself to his fate with the others as they cautiously backed up, finding the dead-end of the tunnel meeting their backs after a few short moments. Maribelle was close at Gaius' side, and in their near proximity he could feel her shaking like a leaf, muttering some strange words under her breath.

Prayers—He realized that those were  _prayers_ she was uttering. He never took Maribelle to be a religious woman, but now was as good of a time as any to start begging to Naga or whoever else out there that would listen, and save them from this sorry situation. This vaguely made him think of Libra, and all the times Gaius mocked him for being so devout. He would take it all back if those very same gods and goddesses would show him respite. He would take everything back if he could survive this soon-to-be massacre of him and some of his better allies.

And the thought of leaping into the air with sudden faith made him remember something quite important. His eyes widened at the revelation as he looked ahead.  _The explosive._ He deadpanned mentally, then revived with sudden fervor.  _The bomb! That's it. Oh Gods. That's it that's it that's it that's it. That's our way out!_ The trap the bandits from before had set for them was, ironically, their last saving grace.

Just leagues away from where they were standing was a large mechanism that was ready to kill anything within vicinity. It was the only thing standing between them and a carnivorous reptile and arachnid. Gaius couldn't think of setting it off, but then seeing Tharja and Ricken's scared faces brought new clarity to his eyes.

He had to yell at them if they had any chance of surviving. He stumbled over his words. "Ricken, Tharja!" He had nicknames for the two of them, surely, but keeping up his quirky tradition was the least of his worries. "Throw fire at the bomb! Cast a spell, anything!"

Tharja's eyes widened as she screamed in the highest pitched voice Gaius ever heard her use. "Are you  _daft?_ We're gonna die if we set it off here! Our faces will melt off!"

"I know that!" Gaius hollered back. "But would you rather die instantly or have your body be torn apart by those fangs?" He motioned at the creatures, who were seconds away from tackling their prey in one voluminous, ravenous sweep.

She hesitated, and Gaius feared that her indecisive face was the last thing he would ever see. His fears melted before his eyes, however, as Ricken stepped forward in Tharja's place. His words and movements were half-excited, half-fearful as he prepared his Arcfire tome, and swiftly shot a decisive and steady stream of fire ahead of them.

And just as the spider and dragon lurched forward, the explosion went off.

Brilliant flashes of light blinded them just like before, and the roars of the cave collapsing on itself were earsplitting. Somehow, the dying shrieks of the monsters before them were audible in the mess, but their assured deaths were hardly comforting in the moment.

Gaius denied any rational thought that came to mind as he instinctively grabbed the other three closer to him, shielding their smaller and thinner bodies with his own bulk. He did not need a realization to know that he was basically acting as their human shield, but it was things like that that truly defined Gaius. He always knew it was his place to do the dirty work, to be the savior in otherwise insolvable situations. He would be the one to feel the full brunt of pain and grime that should have been shared with others. He would be the martyr for those who deserved a better image than he did.

He did it all without thinking about it. And the last thing he heard from his efforts was the sound of Maribelle screaming at him, before something dark and heavy fell from the ceiling and hit him on the head.

Then he couldn't hear anything anymore.


	9. Regrets and Rescues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains detailed injury, gore, animal death, and drug use.

The sound of crickets chirping in the late night darkness was comforting. Accompanied by the view of the sky above, it was truly a relaxing sensation. Those stars in the void far from anyone's reach were tiny pearls woven into the black velvet of the universe. They were beacons in an otherwise endless sea, guiding the lost and wayward planets home to their rightful place. Yet at the same time, they were destructive warships—once they sunk—dragged everything in orbit with it so as not to suffer alone. The stars were beautiful, volatile things.

Seeing and feeling all of this at once did a few things to Henry. First, it assured him that he was alive. Second, it calmed his heart rate considerably, the weak pulsations that were already there did well to rest. It was only expected as the day was already filled with too much adrenaline to begin with. Lastly, it gave him solace in a wild time where his mind, soul, and body lay flat and unmoving as one—he truly was beyond the rational existence in this dim and hurtful night.

The grass that was beneath him was incredibly soft. High quality weeds, those were. It was softer than the cots at Shepherds' camp, and better than any inn or lodge he had been in. Comfier than the four-poster frames in Mustafa's house—cozier than the wiry bed-rot at his previous orphanage. It was so good and inviting that what would have struck him as traumatic or terrible seemed insignificant as the very earth itself seemed insistent on having Henry spend the night.

And he would have given in, too, if he hadn't felt an unholy pair of freezing cold hands touch his face, and drag their icy surfaces across his cheeks in an attempt to keep him up. He stirred lightly, and tried to sound amused when he really just felt annoyed.

"Aw, what'd you do that for? I was about to sleep a little."

"Henry, I know sleep sounds euphoric right now, but you must stay awake. Don't give in, because we're not done yet." The voice that responded to him was methodical and calm. Its words lulled in his head like a sweet song.

"Ugh, but I don't want to." He whined. "Five more minutes?"

"No, you must get up. Henry, do you understand our situation? The four of us have escaped, but the others are nowhere to be found. They are trapped in those maze like tunnels as we speak. Henry?"

Like the voice had just uttered some strange curse, the boy immediately shot up from the ground and stood at full attention. It was as if lightning surged through him, igniting a spark in his previously dull system. He made a weird salute, and nearly fell off balance when he placed his hand down. "Well, why didn't you say so sooner? Look at all the time we're wasting here!"

He was awake enough to realize the voice had been Miriel this whole time. The woman held a bright and luminous sphere of fire between her hands, the flames flickering in the most tame way possible. Shadows flitted across her face, and there was a strange combination of discontent and satisfaction on her countenance. Henry thought she was more charming than ever before, and vaguely wondered if the fire would warm up her freezing cold hands.

 _Because seriously, she could make ice cubes with those fingers if she tried hard enough!_ The idea amused him greatly, and he tried to pretend that the wide smile on his face was one of genuine innocence, rather than the juvenile comedy that fueled it in the first place.

At the very least, the mage woman seemed pleased with his coming to, and motioned the other members of their party to come before them. The quartet gathered around Miriel's flames as the scholar spoke of their next actions to come. "I understand it is very late, or very early depending on your perception of things. While our minds are hazy and our hearts are heavy, we ought to do well to exemplify valor and restitution in these fine moments. Our allies are depending on us." Her words were very inspirational—to the point where Henry felt a small weight free itself from his chest. She continued on.

"So—" her voice was adroit, yet smooth and undefined like a wave of water itself—"we need to get to higher ground. The top of the tunnels meet with the natural formation of this hill. From there we have quite the vantage point. Follow me and we can see the end to this thrilling development." And she walked ahead gracefully, ignoring the biting pain in all parts of her body, and disregarding the streams of blood which left her through various gashes on her arms and legs.

They had allies to rescue, after all. They had friends that needed their help.

...

The noises droned on and on. They consisted only of sand sifting, dirt settling, and bodies coughing. The coughs were the worst of it because each one was dryer than the last, and at some point the air had become greater parts dust than it did oxygen. This made it extremely hard to breathe, and whatever breaths were taken from thereon out were brisk and violent in nature.

Ricken felt the the level of debris rising with each passing second. The rocks made it hard to think of anything else, and the boy was screaming inwardly at his tortuous thoughts and negative desires.

Like fishing wire reeling in, his mind violently went back and forth with little warning in between the sudden, incomprehensible thoughts. The only thing that gave him solace was staring into the hole in the high ceiling above them—one that allowed them to view the sky of the outside world. Ricken could tell that he had been ogling this sight for too long, as the midnight blacks had brightened into dark blues within a moment's notice.

Morning would come soon. He feared he may not live to see it.

Worse off than him were the two bodies slumped against the wall nearby. One was there because of a massive head injury via falling debris, while the other had been forcefully thrown against the wall causing multiple concussing cracks to be heard. His current state would not allow him to decipher if they were still alive or not, but a large part of him did not want to know either way.

"Are..." he croaked out the word as if he had never spoken it before. His throat was hoarse and his mouth was practically closed from the dirt and destruction. He tried again. "Are...they...alive...?" The sentence was coherent enough in his mind, and he could only beg that the remaining conscious person with him was lucid enough to reply.

"...Hard to tell..." came the weak and muffled response of the other. If Tharja was not known for mumbling so much he would have never been able to tell it was her. But her company was better than nothing, so he humored her in the best way he could.

"I guess there's...not much of a difference between  _them_ and  _us,_ is there?"

More dirt and rubble fell, collapsing over itself again and again. Just several yards away, the mage can make out the outline of a large, scaly tail and multiple, furry legs sticking out from underneath the boulders. The sand in that area is stained multiple shades—the dark rotten blood-dust of a Risen, combined with the bright, colorful fluids of an arachnid.

Strange to see either in their situation. Was it not too long ago that those beasts were so vivacious and carnivorous, deeply wanting to taste the flesh of a Shepherd? Were they not roaring into the earth, shaking the very foundation of its core just recently? How was it that they have come to be so dead so quickly? What did their demise mean for the humans who were situated only yards away from them?

And how could Maribelle and Gaius be either dead or alive, with little distinction in between them? Their defeated forms were proof of the night's struggles, and Ricken knew that he and Tharja would soon join them in their decline. The two magic users were already acting like they had died, with listless expressions on their faces and bodies too fatigued to help remedy the situation.

Ricken had no motivation yet, but he knew he just had to wait. And if he could survive past the morning of this dreadful day, then he would take back every mean thing he said about anyone. He would go live life to the fullest, and fight every battle honorably as he savored the moment. He would go to a church of Naga and pray; he would thank the exuberant deity for allowing him to survive where others didn't, and beg for total and utter forgiveness.

He would do all that and more, should he make it through the final hours. But based on the slouch of his posture and the burden on his shoulders, he realized that it was easier said than done.

...

Henry's group walked on the hill that brought them on a natural walkway that bordered the roofs of the caves. They could see multiple holes on top, those that were probably formed by the various explosions from earlier. Their allies could have been trapped in any one of those crevices, and judging from the changing sky to the ragged breaths the group shared, they had little time to rescue them at this point. If they didn't do something excellent soon, they could say goodbye to their friends on the other side.

The dark mage thought as best as he could in the situation given. He had to do something,  _anything._ When he stared at the back of Anna's head in front of him, he thought about what he should do in these few moments. Then he noticed how unruly her hair was, as its usually immaculately styled strands were all tangled up in an unrecognizable mess. If she kept this up, some wayward squirrels would make a nest on her head.

 _Wait a second, squirrels?_ His face lit up like a firework.  _That's it!_

"Hold up, ladies!" He called out to the rest of his team, who turned around and stared at him curiously for his sudden outburst. His face was pulled into his trademark grin, and he started backing away from as well. "I have an idea! I need an animal, and fast!" Before the boy could explain further, he was already dashing into the woods at breakneck speed.

"What's he thinking?" Anna huffed, "he better not be messing around!"

"I think he's grabbing a sacrifice for a curse or a similar ritual," Miriel reported, "this is entirely based on previous experience, but he may know a spell of some dark caliber that allows us to reach our comrades at a quicker speed than we are moving at presently."

"Oh," Anna simply said, dumbfounded. "Well, good for his quick thinking, then! That's a pretty strong spell if it works out in the end."

"B-But that means he needs to kill the animal to do it, right?" Lissa gulped, and looked down at her thumbs. "He tries to be helpful like this sometimes but he's sacrificing another creature's life! Is that right?"

"A question of morals, hmm?" Miriel nodded her head gently. "That is quite the thing to think of, is it not? But maybe we should be lucky that it's an animal instead of one of us."

"He wouldn't try that," The trickster cut in with a cool edge to her voice, "and besides, we just killed a bunch of people in that cave. We aren't any better."

Before the conversation could escalate further, the boy returned with his spoils from victory—a single, dead squirrel. Its neck was broken and Lissa was thankful that the thing had a swift death, at the very least. She shuddered at the thought of it, and pretended that it was just cold, more than anything. She gulped involuntarily, throat dry with hesitation and exhaustion. Lissa found the strength to speak, anyway.

"What're you gonna do with that...um,  _poor animal_ , Henry?" She hesitated, as if saying the wrong thing would set him off somehow. While they were all too tired to muster any real anger in the moment, the threat of him snapping suddenly—while very unlikely—still scared her. She nearly flinched when he responded with a callous chuckle.

"This is our sacrifice! I recently mastered this certain spell that was  _pretty useless_ up until this point. In a way, this makes me happy that I bothered to waste my time with it at all." Hearing him speak so casually (and without his usually violent adages) surprised Lissa, but he returned to his typical demeanor soon. "Anyway, I better get to work or else there won't be anyone left to save."

The white haired male placed the sacrifice off to the side on the dirt path, where he used a large rock to draw a circle around it. He also drew some magical runes to accompany it, as well. Then, he positioned his tome into the air, and with an utterance of ceremonial words he let go of the book and smiled in satisfaction as it hovered in place on its own. Lissa gaped and covered her mouth at this display, but was the only one of the three females to do so. She didn't care, though—how could she when he seemed to have conjured some magic beyond her understanding? Half of her wanted to reach out and smack the book out of its levitation, but she realized that would be detrimental to anything happening in the moment, so she held back.

Henry waved his hands in a precise motion before speaking in more incoherent words, and when he was done the circle of sacrifice began to glow immeasurably. The white-yellow beams of color were a stark, brightening contrast to the pitch black surroundings. The light itself shot into a straight line upward, embedding itself in the cover and spine of the floating tome above it.

Within seconds, the pages of the book flipped rapidly by themselves, and sent a large beacon of light into the sky. Lissa was confused, thinking  _how on Naga's earth is this gonna help us find them?_ Just as she was about to protest, Miriel gasped and interrupted her thoughts. Then the girls watched as the mage's tome beamed out a ray of light from within its worn pages. It mirrored the beacon of light coming from Henry's spell, and despite seeing this display from the first time, the princess had a very good idea of what was happening.

"This spell locates and identifies nearby tomes," he said, "so if Tharja and Ricken are nearby then they—" He cut himself off when he turned around to face the cave roofs, and saw that—only a short distance away—was a blinding pillar of light shooting up from one of the chambers in the cave. The dark mage didn't look back at his allies twice before he started running in that direction, heart pounding as a single word repeated inside of his head like a dazed mantra.

 _Gaius Gaius Gaius Gaius Gaius Gaius Gaius Gaius,_ Henry thought. Dead or alive, he needed to know of the other's fate. Dead or alive, he needed to see his face, and the faces of his other comrades who were locked in a cycle of grief and fear as he knew it.

Dead or alive, he needed to be there by his side.

...

Just as Ricken was about to make some impassioned monologue about how they should try to survive in their last moments, he noticed something strange and almost sinister happen. His eyes were locked onto Tharja's, and within her murky irises he could see the apprehension and fear that lay behind a thick veil of gloominess. Peaking through the fog of her soul were her true emotions, such that her pupils were shaking and her eyelashes were fluttering. She was more charming in that instant than in any other time Ricken had laid eyes on her.

He didn't know if she was cursing him to see her this way, or if she was so genuinely scared out of her mind that he peaked a glimpse of its truth in full. To decide either way, he began to speak to her on  _that_ subject, and not the one of their impending deaths. "You're scared, aren't you, Tharja? I've never seen you so scared before." Ricken didn't mean to sound condescending, but the way her face changed implied that she was offended by his words.

"Oh, great. Mock me in my final moments, will you?" She groaned loudly and banged her head back on the rock she was leaning against. If she felt pain at all from that she did well not to show it, and tried to keep speaking in a fluid motion. "Listen, Ricken. I've never been in this situation before. The sand that's been rising past our feet? Whole new world. That feeling that maybe we're inside a giant hourglass? It's a brand new thought!" Her words were rather smooth, and he supposed she was talking mindlessly out of hysteria now.

She wanted to berate him in so many more ways but she couldn't. As they spoke, the strangest thing happened where their tomes—which were lying beside them in the sinking sand or within their own hands—opened on their own accord, and from their magical pages blasted forth a large beam of light. The light shone through the hole in the ceiling and went as far as the highest cloud in the visibly sky above them. The two magic users gawked at the display.

Tharja's surprised face was reassuring to Ricken as he feared he might have hallucinated it all from the beginning. But it was as real as it could get and he gazed widely at it all.

"You guys!" A voice called out to them from above, and Ricken recognized it as Anna's. "Move out of the way! I'm gonna blast this hole open some more!"

They struggled for some time but were able to follow her commands eventually. Ricken pulled Gaius' limp body out of the way, whilst Tharja pushed Maribelle to the side. Then, as if on cue, a big chunk of earthy ceiling fell out from its place and into the quickly rising sand. The heavens and skies were clear above them now, and so were the concerned faces of the remaining Shepherds.

Anna jumped down into the chamber, holding on to some sort of vine (or rope?) that would serve as her tether back up to the surface. She was heavily bruised and bleeding, but remained oddly chipper as she beamed at both Ricken and Tharja. "So you four seem alright for now. Let's start with taking someone on my back." She pointed to the empty space there, and gave a nod as if to reassure them that  _yes,_ her spine was still in one piece.

Ricken quickly blurted out "Maribelle first!" before either him or the Plegian woman would have a chance to save their sorry asses first. Anna nodded, and motioned for help as she tried to quickly pick the duchess' body up from the ground. They snaked the girl's arms around the trickster's neck, and the latter gave a quick smile before climbing back up. Halfway through the ordeal, the other three members seemed to pull at the vine to facilitate it all.

Hope was coming alive before Ricken's eyes. And with such good timing, too, considering that he was up to his knees in falling sand. What Tharja said about this feeling vaguely like an hourglass was true, and for the first time in his life, he felt claustrophobic. But he had to keep his chin up, so instead he focused on helping his allies get out of this unscathed—or, at the very least, get them out of this in one piece.

When Anna returned for a second trip, Ricken and Tharja stared each other down. The former gave in, and helped the dark mage get to the rope before he did. She gave him a cursory glance of  _something_ (appreciation? gratitude? disappointment? wonder? he couldn't place it) and turned away. Anna spoke some quick words to Tharja before ascending the rope. The combined effort of both women helped to speed up the process, but Ricken desperately wished they could go faster.

The sand was up to his waist, now. Gaius had been moved to a higher rock above the ground so his slumped form would not drown in the rising dirt. Ricken breathed deeply to calm the wilds in his heart, and nearly jumped out of his skin when the rope lowered to his level. Anna was not to be seen, and he could hear voices from above instructing them what to do. "Can you say that again?" He asked worriedly, fearing that the exhaustion was catching up to him. It was hard to understand what they were telling him.

"Wrap the rope around Gaius!" Anna yelled at him. "We'll pull you both up at the same time!"

The mage exclaimed in understanding, and quickly got to work with the rope. He was lucky that he knew how to tie some knots, and that Frederick's Fanatic Fitness Hour included a session on basic skills for surviving in the wild. His fingers trembled greatly, and when the last loop was made he securely grabbed onto Gaius' waist. The redhead gazed up through the ceiling, and cried out: "Ready!"

It was a longer procedure than he anticipated it to be. At first, there was no movement at all, and he worried fervently as the sands were past his stomach at this point. But then a sudden jerk upward surprised him, and it felt like he was stuck inside a vacuum because the dirt didn't want him to become free. After several minutes (in which all he heard was the laborious grunts and cries of pain from his allies), he felt his feet wriggle free and a sigh escape his chest unknowingly.

The Ylissean thief was all but dead as he remained completely motionless, only swayed every now and then by the rope's movements. His head lulled to the side and his eyes were shut close, but the sporadic breaths through his cloak were present, and they reassured Ricken that the man was still alive—for  _now,_ anyway. It was a great relief when Ricken could see the outside world again, and six different pairs of hands reached forward to pull him and Gaius out from over the edge.

He coughed the excess dirt from his lungs, hacking out saliva and blood as he did so. Lissa and Maribelle reached forward to rub slow circles in his back to ease the pain. When he was soothed somewhat, they urged him to move farther away from the hole, and onto the softer grass just a few arms length away. He collapsed onto the greenery, and nearly fell asleep on contact. Only the audible shifting and stirring of his friends indicated that he was wide awake. He turned on his stomach and sighed.

Farther away from him, the rest of the Shepherds climbed to the grass to grab a hold of their bearings. They had to process what happened, after all. Henry had untied the rope from Gaius' body already, and together with Miriel and Tharja, he dragged the thief's body onto safer ground. The women left Henry to himself as they easily collapsed onto their own backsides. He didn't mind, though. From his spot, he could give them uplifting smiles and thumbs up gestures. They did not reciprocate his actions, but both female mages spared him weak, broken smiles of their own.

It made him happy to see them at least try to pretend to be okay. It was the thought that counted, anyway!

...

Their injuries were grievous beyond belief. Bones were broken, dislodged, or exposed from their meaty prison altogether. Skin was a various map of bruises, cuts, lacerations, scabs, blisters, and more. Breaths were short, distant, erratic as they struggled to come out in the first place. Eyes were bloodshot and irritated, threatening to close underneath the pressure of it all.

Henry was almost out of it that he couldn't even think to catalog all the damage that had been done. The biggest offense ended up being the precious gems in the cave, followed secondly by the mighty beasts that chased them to their wits's end for the duration of the night. Had those been removed from the equation, then the eight of them would have been sitting around a campfire by now, laughing about their vast treasures and giving tall tales about the bloody battles they fought. Henry should like to think that he preferred that outcome better, simply because he was hurting so much that he didn't want anything else but sweet relief.

Somehow he and the others ended up on the road again, weaving their ways on the path they (literally) blazed through the forest earlier. They followed the familiar twists and turns, as well as the burn marks left on the plants that had to suffer for them hours ago. The smell of smoke, mixed together with the aroma of ivy, oak, and berry plants was very relaxing and almost dangerous. Lissa, for example, almost fell asleep on her own two feet if Ricken didn't stumble behind her and bump into her, forcing her awake.

The boy himself was ragged, and on his shoulders he bore the weight of Gaius' legs, while several feet behind him Henry held the thief by his arms instead. The joint effort was necessary as neither mage was physically strong enough to do it alone. Occasionally Ricken would yell: "Henry, stay awake." And Henry would reply: "Ricken, go to sleep." As a joke but he sometimes felt like it would be better if they took a much needed break once in a while. They trekked on anyway.

Anna flanked the group this time, her right leg badly sprained from the continued use. It gave out minutes ago, and she had no choice but to grin and bear it as she trudged pathetically behind the rest of the Shepherds. Had her mobility not been hindered, then she would have easily taken the front side, leading her friends and allies to safety with a smile.

Instead, Miriel lead the group on with Elfire flames floating around her. The warmth of the fire was very dangerous, too, because its comfort invited the scholar to sleep on many occasions. She kept herself awake through sheer willpower, relying on her notes and her knowledge to lead the rest of the group through the forest. Once they escaped the woods, they could rest up on the plains without worrying about the natural predators setting upon them in their most vulnerable moments. With that idea in mind, Miriel chanted to herself inwardly:  _Stay awake stay awake stay awake._

Lissa and Maribelle supported themselves, with a reluctant Tharja close to their sides. They prodded each other whenever one of them seemed to doze off, and they helped dragged wayward members back onto the path that Miriel was forging for them. It was comical for the two sunny girls to be leading the obviously gloomy one, but even Tharja set aside her adverse differences during this night of solidarity. She even appreciated it when Lissa tugged her sleeve, cape, or hand now and then to keep her awake. It would be almost nice, if the circumstances weren't the way they were.

They all continued on like that, walking through the uncertain forest with heavy hearts and heavier feet.

...

Ten minutes later, the group emerged from the thick forests. They were haggard and defeated in every sense, and almost collapsed on the open plains in front of them. By some miracle, however, they realized they did not have to set up camp for the rest of the day, nor did they have to retreat back into the woods.

Several convoy wagons rolled up to meet them, bronze-colored horses neighing obediently as they halt to a stop in front of them. There was a bit of shouting to be had, but the soldiers immediately gained morale when they saw the familiar figure of Prince Chrom running up to meet them. The way he was screaming over Lissa could be heard from the castle, they were sure of it. Others soon came from out the wagons and helped the rest of the injured Shepherds get inside, laying them down on berths and tending to their wounds immediately.

Robin helped a few other soldiers carry Gaius inside one of the wagons. The tactician looked up to meet eyes with Henry, and in their brief exchange a wordless message was understood. The strategist motioned for Henry to follow them, and they walked to the southernmost wagon where two empty, fresh cots were waiting for them. Gaius was hoisted up onto one of them, whilst Robin invited Henry to lie down on the other.

"Thanks," Henry slurred, the formation of the letters sounding foreign to him. Robin, thankfully, understood what he meant, and gave a swift reply that Henry neither heard nor comprehended. They didn't hold it against him, though, and sat in the middle with the healers that were working left and right. They were cleaning the wounds first, and if Henry weren't in such pain he would have complained about how much it hurt. Yet he was thankful to be able to see the scenes unfold before him as they did.

Gaius was much less intimidating when he was unconscious. He was not nearly as cunning, either, and Henry liked and disliked that idea at the same time. Because he hated the way the other seemed so vulnerable and helpless in that moment, but he also loved the peaceful and calm look on his whole body. A sleep-like death, as it was, or something similar that allured Henry all at once and not at all. It was confusing, hurtful, and the dark mage was sure that he could blame these senseless thoughts on his injuries and nothing else.

Either way, he turned his head to the side and stared intently at Gaius. He opened his eyes, allowing the strange and changing color of his irises to be revealed. He chalked it up to the unpredictable dark magic in his veins, but right now his irises appeared as they always had been—dark, round, and violet-blue. They searched for the usually green irises that always came his way, and were disappointed when they saw nothing but eyelids closed over them. They were wanting to see that familiar dark-green-bordering on hazel, those forested eyes that held so many emotions and memories within them.

Emotions and memories that the violet-eyed one wanted to know. Henry laughed in spite of himself, and closed his eyes once more. He blocked those beautifully bright irises from the world once more, sincerely promising them they would get a glance of that enthralling earthy color again. He promised, promised,  _promised_ himself that he would see Gaius again. And because of the thief, he had been better at keeping those promises lately.

So Henry reached out his right hand, and gently reached for Gaius' hand in a needy motion. He interlaced their fingers together, amused at their contrasting body temperatures. Henry's hand was warm with blood and panic underneath the surface, whilst Gaius' hand was cold with sleep and sickness at the surface of the skin. It felt pleasant for some reason, even though the thief was badly incapacitated at the time being.

Even then, Henry squeezed his hand as if to reassure him.  _You'll be okay,_ he thought to himself, unable to find strength to talk.  _You'll be fine. When you wake up, I'll give you a good curse to make your day better. Promise._

With those warm thoughts festering in Henry's mind, he decided that he had done all that he could that day, and he would let everyone else take the reins from this point on. Being satisfied with that resolve, he kept his grip on Gaius (knowing it would loosen upon slumber, anyway) and smiled widely. One of the healers—or Robin, he couldn't tell—was standing over him, talking about the medicine they were about to give him. He didn't hear most of what they were saying, but the words "sedative" came into the conversation, and the word sent deep shivers up his narrow spine.

Then he became very familiar with that word as he felt something prick his skin, a bright cool feeling washing his strained veins away with peace and tranquility. Head lulling to the side, the last thing that Henry thought of was Gaius and these so-called "sedatives." He dreamed of the thief stealing his (blackened) heart away, with a lovely (sedate) smile on his face that made Henry's body limp and unfeeling. It was—by  _far_ —the best dream that Henry ever had in his life. He even smiled in his sleep, body moving to the rhythm of the healers and the wagon on the bumpy ride home.

He was impervious to the world around him, one that consisted of hurried conversations and deep regrets. Robin, in particular, spoke with Chrom across the wagons. They discussed what should be done, and if what they had  _already done_ was worth the pain they endured. Not reaching an agreement in either way, both of the soldiers remained in their respective wagons to mull the whole event over. Then, one by one, the convoy units peeled out, and the Shepherds left nothing else behind them—nothing except for the maze-like death and the early, rising dawn.


	10. Jobs and Jests

Robin's plan with the enchanted convoy bags was largely successful, but a good portion of the treasure still remained in the deadly caves. Miriel was the first of the expedited group to recover in full, so she was expertly able to relay everything—to her knowledge, that is—back to Robin. They learned of the near entirety of their ordeals, and how the bandits were easier to deal with than anything else. The cave's unnatural inhabitants, the spider and the Risen dragon, were the most deadly and almost caused their party to perish within those tunnels.

Miriel was quick to mention that Henry and Gaius were especially heroic, as she heard from Ricken that Gaius' quick thinking saved them all in the end. To this, Robin seemed equal parts pleased and worried, but assured Miriel that her information was priceless and that she earned a well-deserved break from her usual duties.

"Also," they said, twirling a strand of white hair around their finger in thought, "you can help yourself to some of the treasures you helped recover. We redistributed almost all of it, but most of it was left unclaimed. If I'm being honest, I think those villages just wanted to reward us somehow, so they let us keep more than we deserve. It was kind of them, but we couldn't refuse their offer, really. So we have a good amount in our coffers that you can definitely put to good use." They sounded desperate for redemption, like their concocted plan was what caused them so much suffering to begin with.

While that certainly wasn't it, Miriel seemed elated at the opportunity, anyway. "Of course. I will be sure to seek your guidance, because I am thinking of pursuing a more... _sagely_ path. There are many branches of magic to go off on, and any one of them could help me immensely." She giggled in spite of herself. "Thank you, Robin. And please don't be so hard on yourself. I believe there's a phrase to help lessen the emotional burden of this all... _no pain, no gain,_ right?"

It was a measly attempt at trying to comfort the strategist, but they accepted it anyway. "I appreciate it, Miriel. Why don't you go enjoy yourself for a bit, then? We were getting ready to move camp up north, but that's being held off for obvious reasons. Until then, you can...well, I said this all once already, didn't I?" The mage picked up on their cues, though, and she quickly escorted herself out of their tent.

When she disappeared behind the tent flaps, Robin let out a deep sigh. They hated using something as shallow as money and treasures to alleviate such grand suffering, and they knew very well that this couldn't compensate for the hellish ordeal they went through. But this was war and certainly the others could stand to tolerate this misstep. Hopefully they could bear with Robin, and forgive them in what they believe to be one of their greater mistakes.

They certainly hoped so. They carried this hope on their shoulders in a slight slouch, one that got better with time as more and more of the afflicted Shepherds recovered. Not until the last one was healed back to perfection, would Robin rest. And with the way Gaius was recovering, they feared that may be much longer than  _anyone_ could anticipate it to be.

...

Henry awoke to the smell of rum and licorice. He was not fond of those aromas in particular and severely hoped that the medics didn't have to spike him up with alcohol and perform an amputation, or something. It was silly to think that anyway—especially if there were curses to feel no pain that he could cast to help himself—and even sillier when he realized that there were things such as sedatives in his world.

Oh, he wanted his hands on some of those drugs. They were more magical than anything he could conjure, for they could actually erase agony in all its essence. Healing staves and similar mechanisms calmed the injuries and prevented death, but the lasting remnants of pain and misery would linger within the afflicted. Henry always hated, hated,  _hated_ pain and now he never had to feel that ever again. He just needed to get some of the sedative supplies out from under the noses of the medics.

Henry opened his eyes in excitement, not realizing he was still on a bedroll and not realizing he should probably stay still. His back was to the cot (which felt soft and comfy, actually) and his front faced the ceiling. Or, in this case, the top of the tent where durable flax smoothed at the top in a squarish fashion. It was therapeutic to watch the material ripple in the wind, and even  _more_ calming to feel the wind itself rush into the infirmary, cooling off Henry's sweaty forehead and allowing him to breathe.

"Henry? Are you awake?" It was Libra. Henry didn't mind the monk's presence, but he was definitely more used to see Maribelle or Lissa. He obliquely wondered where they were, but then remembered that they were in just as bad shape as he was. With a deep sigh, the Plegian tried to sit up on his own accord.

Libra was quick to act, however, and used a firm but soft hand to stay Henry's movements. They shook their head side to side, and eased up when Henry fell back to his original position. Then he smiled. "I'm glad to see that you're finally awake. It took you a few days."

"Really? That long?" He was genuinely surprised, but he undermined the emotion by smiling widely as he always did. Libra seemed rather unaffected by this strange behavior—maybe he'd seen worse at his confessionals, after all—and returned the gesture with a smile of equal brightness. The dark mage was humored by the fact that Libra's smile, for some reason, was just as soulless as his own. Intriguing.

"Well, it's refreshing to know that you find that too long of a recovery period...some find it too short and try to stay longer than they should. Naga help them," Libra muttered, holding a smooth hand to his chest in a sign of prayer. "But,  _you_  are the one I am most worried about right now, Henry. I must let you know that while you were resting, you recited strange words in your sleep."

"Oh, I have a bad habit of sleep-talking after I take a beating." The words came out automatically that the Plegian didn't think twice to mask them in any way. He kept going. "I used to talk in my sleep a  _lot_ as a kid, haha. Those were some days, alright..." the look on his face could have been forlorn if his grin wasn't there. But it was, and the ends of such a disparate expression made Libra uneasy. He shifted weight from one foot to his other.

"I, um..."

"But I don't do it as much anymore!" Henry cut in, as if trying to make up for his missteps just now. "Instead I think I'm the one beating others around. Anyway, am I good to go? Why do I still have to lie down?"

"That," Libra explained, "is because I don't want you to get a head rush from trying to jump out of bed. You can rise, of course, but I'd prefer if you take it slowly." They motioned for Henry to start getting up, with slow hands to facilitate the process. "That's it, you have it."

"Ah, look at that! I feel as right as rain!" He chuckled at the expression, and stretched his whole body in accordance. "Thanks, Libra. That must have been a big burden, fixing up my bloody body like that~"

The priest laughed softly, and pulled up a chair to better converse with the patient in front of him. He gave a soft touch to the other's shoulder, but it was out of solidarity more than anything else. "Henry, I will always do my best for the Shepherds. It is my calling, after all. But it was certainly not a burden. It was a challenge, at the very least, but nothing I wouldn't do thrice over."

"Aw~" Henry cooed, interlocking his own hands together in a lovey-dovey expression. "You're  _so_ sweet~ You should pull out that charm with Robin, sometime! They'd love it."

At the prospect of the tactician in question, the monk seemed to grow sheepish as a light scarlet hue filled his face entirely. He glanced wayward. "Oh, please. I am not charming in the least, and Robin of all people shouldn't have to see such a... _display._ "

"Hee hee," Henry shook his head side to side, "you're funny. But I do feel better, anyway." He stretched his arms again, and giggled in satisfaction as his bones cracked loudly. "Can I go now?"

"Well, you don't seem worse for wear, so I've no reason to keep you here any longer." Libra stood up, and helped the younger male stand to his feet. Henry wobbled a bit, but fell over entirely when he looked down and saw that his outfit looked nearly unrecognizable. It wasn't covered in the grime, guts, and gore like usual. Instead, the violet hues of his outfit were more prominent than before, and the white, gold, and black embellishing were shiny and clean.

 _Someone had washed his clothes._ Someone rinsed the blood away before he had a chance to see the crimson fluids stain the water. He was almost disheartened by this, but kept this secret disappointment hidden as he got up on his own accord—shooing away Libra's helpful hands in the process. "Sorry, guess I was shocked at, uh, how  _okay_ I look. I was a mess before I got here," he recalled, thinking of the gashes and lashes he had received. "I'm squeaky clean now!"

"Don't apologize, the shock is perfectly normal after a long recovery period." Libra agreed, and helped to lead the boy outside the medic tent. The breeze picked up again and greeted the two males as they stepped into the fray. The Shepherds' camp was busy and hectic like it had always been, especially with the clamor of sorting out the treasury, and the noise of life was comforting to Henry. In that sole night away from camp, he sort of missed this mundane life. He stretched himself onto his heels and took it all in a single, grateful breath.

"Ahh," he said, "what a nice day! I feel so good, I think I'll visit Ricken or Gaius. And then get some of that good stuff you're keeping for yourself." His voice quieted to hide his malicious intent to steal the drugs, and he faced Libra with an all-too-fake innocent smile. But at this moment, he was genuinely thinking of his comrades "Hey, Libra? Do you know where Ricken is? Or where Gaius is? I want to play~"

"Ricken was at the mess hall last I heard," the monk calmly said, "and Gaius, well...he hasn't—"

"—He hasn't what? Died yet?" Henry tilted his head, letting the longer strands of his snow-like hair fall to the side. To this, Libra felt something icy grab his heart, but he dismissed the sensation as he replied to Henry.

"No, he hasn't  _woken up_ yet. He's taking the longest and hardest to recover. I suspect it's due to his head injury," Libra answered honestly, a deep tranquility present in his voice. "I'm sure you know it better than I do, but he was struck in the head by a small boulder during that whole ordeal...I can't even think what that must be like."

Henry froze up suddenly, but released his tense shoulders in the same instant. This momentary lapse in composure was noted by Libra, but Henry continued as if nothing had happened. "Oh, that's too bad. Well, nothing we can do about it! I'll go find Ricken now in the mean time. See you around~" A thoughtful pause ensued, before a softer smile appeared on Henry's face. "Or not~" Henry practically sang as he skipped by Libra, thin legs prancing about like a performer's pair of stilts. He laughed at himself again, and continued on the path that would take him to Ricken.

While he did so, he thought desperately about Gaius, and this time he could't even pretend that he did not care about him. This time, he was taken by surprise about how  _much_ he seemed to care, as a single name—which he had grown used to repeating inwardly by this point—resounded in his head like a deathly mantra.

_..._

Ricken and Henry reunited in the mess hall. The latter learned that the young mage had awoken much earlier in the week, only taking a day and a half to fully recover from the pain of it all. He seemed as if he never went out on that excursion in the first place, and that was annoying and relieving in a simultaneous fashion. Henry didn't hold it against him, however, as he trailed a long finger around the rim of his water glass in a rather calm manner. He was listening to Ricken talk about something, and was trying to be genuinely interested in the topic at hand.

"Have you spoken to Robin?" Ricken suddenly posed a question, not missing a beat as he scrutinized the other's face for a veritable expression—something that  _wasn't_ a smile. But he was disappointed as Henry beamed at him just like he always did. His response was unoriginal, too. (But it wasn't a terribly interesting question to begin with)

"Not yet. Why?" The words were so few and economical, they were nothing like the person that spoke it. Ricken hesitated at first, caught off guard by the rather tranquil demeanor, but regained footing in his words once more.

"Well, Robin said that we actually helped a lot, and that most of the treasure we got belongs Shepherds' now." The boy took a bite of his food before continuing. "They said we can take what we'd like. I thought that was pretty cool, but I don't need any of it. My family is well off anyway."

"So you want me to take your share?" Henry asked, holding his chin in one of his hands as he leaned forward on the table. He smiled widely, and did something he had rarely ever done before.

He opened one eye, and kept the other closed in a charming way. He was  _winking._ But Ricken had only seen Henry's eyes once in the past, despite their closeness, and to see one of them appear before him suddenly was breathtaking. Today the color was a brighter, paler shade of blue, and he vaguely wondered if the changing hues of the irises were dependent on Henry's mood.

It took a few seconds to process what was happening, but Ricken found himself again. "U-Uh, yeah! Yeah, that's what I was gonna say. I don't need much, if at all. Maybe just enough to buy some stronger tomes. And,  _wow,_  your eyes are really  _blue_  today, Henry!"

"Really? They were rainbow colored yesterday." He beamed at the thought of his own corny joke, but kept the one eye open. "Kidding, you know it's just a curse, right? I cast it on myself by accident a  _long_ time ago. I still don't know how to reverse this one."

"It's pretty," Ricken declared, reassuring Henry that this misfired spell was actually doing him good, "but I was asking if you talked with Robin yet because I was thinking of getting their help in becoming stronger." The redhead sat straighter, holding his head high in a way that only nobles could do. "I'm one hundred percent sure that I'm ready to reach the next level. I heard rumors that Miriel was studying to be a sage, and that doesn't sound too bad, if I say so myself!"

"That'd be cool." Henry grinned widely as he closed his eyes again, sitting upright himself to match Ricken's punctual movements. Ricken almost seemed let down by the action, but Henry kept talking anyway. "Sages are better at offensive magic, and they're good at healing too, aren't they? You would even wear pretty clothes like the late exalt used to!"

"You're right about the spells, but now I just feel bad. I forgot about that," Ricken admitted guiltily, "I forgot that Emmeryn is—"

"— _Was._ " Henry corrected, much to Ricken's dismay. The former of the two resumed tracing the water glass with his finger. "She's  _dead_ now, Ricken. Fell like a fly in the land of Grima. I wonder if her body was turned into a Risen?"

"Crivens, Henry!" He hissed at his friend, knocking him lightly in the side of his head. "Don't talk about her like that! Someone could hear you."

"Oopsies," Henry said, not sounding apologetic in the least. But his words weren't filled with malice, only simple truths as he recited facts that everyone else already knew. "Trust me, no one's gonna hear us. They're sitting so far away from us right now! They probably pity us for dealing with all those bandits~ But they don't even know that the bandits were the easiest part." A pointed finger stopped tracing the rim, and instead pushed the glass over in its entirety. The water spilled out and leaked through the holes in the table.

"Henry!" Ricken cried out, moving to the side of the bench where the water was absent. After securing his dryness, he shot the other an accusing glare. "What was that for?"

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly, smile morphing into something more smirk-like. The emotion was not quite present but the thought of it still held true. Henry proceeded nonetheless. "I guess I'm antsy. If we're gonna see Robin, I can tell them about how good at dark magic I am~ And they can talk about making me into a super cool sorcerer where I'll go down in history as something silly. Which do you think is better,  _'Henry the Wicked'_ or  _'Henry the Black Heart'_? Be honest."

"Neither," Ricken decided. "I think  _Henry the Wild, Henry the Eccentric, Henry the Pure Soul_ works better. The other ones are way too... _typical._ "

"Oh, those are nice!" Henry agreed. "I think the third one is too personal to make public, though. I want my pure soul and heart to be my hidden charm."

"You're a dolt," the mage joked, reaching across the table to pinch the dark mage's cheek. "Listen, since you're so good at wasting time, you should come with me to see Robin. Why don't we make those hidden charms come to light?" A smile crossed the boy's face, one that mirrored the grin plastered on Henry's visage. Maybe his cheeriness was starting to infect those around him. It was hard to tell, but Henry didn't deny it either way.

"That sounds fun," he supplied, reaching forward to pinch Ricken's cheek in a counterattack. "Last one there's a rotten Risen!"

The two youths nearly tripped over each other, shoving their plates and glasses into the dirty bin on the way out. Ricken stepped on Henry's cloak and Henry cast a simple spell to throw Ricken's ridiculously large hat off to the side. They laughed at one another in childish delight, dodging and ducking other Shepherds that eyed their juvenile display with discerning eyes. Those looks were ignored, though, because the two boys knew that they deserved a little  _play_ in the middle of all this  _war._

By the time they reached Robin's tent, they were hyper and silly with their own energy, and almost knocked the poor tactician off their feet in a swarm of mischief. Robin managed to stay upright, though, and even commanded their attention as they strategically placed their foot in a place that they could not anticipate. The other two fell over on their faces, laughing despite the sudden fall they took. Their excitement died down eventually, and they looked up at Robin with curious eyes.

"I'm guessing," they said, "you two had something  _important_ to tell me? You're moving faster than an Arcwind on a stormy day." A wry grin appeared on their face without fail, matching the other two magic users in goodhearted tomfoolery in the smallest of ways.

They appreciated that sentiment, but quickly got to the business they wanted to discuss. "Robin," Ricken started to say, "we wanted to talk about options. I personally think that it'd be good if we were more than simple mages, y'know? Especially me—I can't be helpful if I don't get stronger!" He suddenly got serious, and scrambled to his feet as he tried to match the strategist in height. He failed easily, but still held on to his pride.

"So you want to be stronger?" Robin gawked. "You know that you don't need my approval for that...but if you're struggling about which path to take, that's where I come in." They eyed Henry, as well. "And you, Henry? You also need some help with this?"

"Not really," he admitted, "I already know I want to be a sorcerer. I mean, I've been kind of casting spells and learning dark magic my whole life for that reason. I tagged along with Ricken because I was bored and didn't want to be alone while I'm on vacation."

"A much deserved break is hardly the same thing as a vacation," Robin pointed out, "but it's relaxing and dulling all the same. I see where you're coming from and I'll help you along in any way I can. Before you can worry about what new spells to start learning, though, we have to go through the most important part of any class change."

"And what would that be?" Ricken tilted his head, something that Henry copied with great ease. They looked toward Robin with different expressions. "What's more important than learning the new stuff?"

" _Obviously,_ there's something way more important than learning the skills. Before any of that, whenever you want to make a change..." Robin moved toward their chests and the mini-wardrobe which was apparently moved into the tent just recently. They unlocked the mechanisms and watched with sparkly eyes as the objects opened before them. Ricken and Henry peered over their shoulders to see what it was they were looking at.

It was clothes; clothes, clothes, and more clothes. There were cloaks, capes, petticoats, and corsets. There were smallclothes, dresses, and gowns, too. It was like a whole tailor's shop was kept inside of those chests, and it was more amazing than any parlor trick magic that either of them could have come up with. Robin's eyes sparkled again with the light of creative opportunity. They turned around, placing one hand on either Ricken and Henry's shoulder. There was a look of inexplicable  _hunger_ in their eyes, but it wasn't a usual thirst they were trying to slake.

"Whenever you want to make a change," they said, "you have to start with your  _outfit_ _."_

...

The costume change had taken hours to go through, much to their dismay. Robin seemed utterly obsessed with this small, unexpected hobby of theirs, and by the time they finished their work it was already the next day. Henry and Ricken fell asleep—the former deciding not to cast the insomnia curse for obvious reasons—on the floor of Robin's tent. They laid upon bundles of silk and satin, that which separated them from the pure dirt underneath. While this impromptu slumber was inappropriate of soldiers, the obsessive makeover and clothing coordination was equally inappropriate, so Robin forgave them easily.

They simply left the outfits at their disposal, placing them upon the bedrolls with ease. They moved their belongings from their tent, and made it known that their previous tent was no longer theirs. Frederick had this knowledge passed on like wildfire, and soon enough no one approached the tent that was once Robin's. As a result, Henry and Ricken were able to sleep soundly without disruptions. And while they slept easily enough during their recovery period, this was the first time that they really felt like sleep was refreshing, so they stayed unconscious without fault.

The next day had passed already, and the two boys realized they spent the past few days in Robin's tent having done nothing else but lie upon the ground. As they stood up from their slumber, their gazes locked onto the clothes that were left behind for them on the bedroll. The sheer, silky garments left for him were rather superfluous, but Henry thought it was too silly to pass up. Ricken, on the other hand, felt overwhelmed with awe as he laid eyes on his outfit. It was colorful, regal, and far too lovely for someone like him. But he accepted it all anyway, and gave a knowing look to Henry.

"These are really nice, don't you think?"

"Yeah, sure! It's so silly though! At least the material is thin~" Henry showed off the sheer garments to Ricken, who turned a very slight, almost unnoticeable shade of pink. It wasn't comparable to Tharja's personal clothing choice, for instance, but the way that Plegian clothes were so revealing in general was rather shocking to someone as modest as him. Still, he did not judge Henry too badly for it as he pulled his hands away from the fabric.

"Right, it sure is. You're gonna have a miserable time when we go north, though." Ricken assented, looking more worried than boastful. He looked through his robes and held them close to his chest. "I'm gonna go back to my tent and change! I think I have a sash that goes well with this outfit."

"Oh no," Henry gasped, "Robin got to you! Don't tell me you're gonna ramble on about color theory and which season is in and—"

"—Of course not!" Ricken cut him off before he could ridicule him further. "I just thought it would be a nice addition, okay? It'll be perfect and now that I have the perfect outfit to be a sage, I can start learning the higher-up spells, too!" A big smile replaced his current expression, and his genuine excitement was refreshing to see. "I'm so happy, all my hard work is paying off."

"Good for you, buddy." Henry agreed, giving a thumbs up. "Then, you'd better get going! I have sheer silk and black magic to attend to!" He playfully shooed the other away, but was successful as Ricken's own eagerness caught up with him, and he was bounding down through camp to reach his own quarters. Seeing his funny silhouette in the distance made the Plegian laugh as he closed the tent flaps behind him.

Henry held onto the new sorcerer's garb, looking at it with a rather blank expression. Maybe he was happy about this ordeal, but it was certainly a different happiness he felt than the one he gained from seeing blood or Risen limbs. It was also different from the happiness he surmised when he got revenge on hurtful enemies, or did his best to help his allies in battle. There was some sort of  _pride_ within him right now, as he realized the years of training to reach this moment have finally bore fruit. To think that it took hundreds of near-death experiences to get here was rather bittersweet, but he did not know the proper emotions involved in any of these revelations.

So he stuck to what he did best— _smiling._ A big smile appeared as he stripped from his dusty dark mage regalia, and slipped into the sorcerer's apparel instead. The thin cloth brushed past his honeyed skin, and folded in places where his thin physique betrayed him. But overall, it was a good fit. It was also different from the usual sorcerer's garb that he had seen some of his fellow Plegians wear before. It kept some of his favorite things from his previous outfit—the golden eyes of Grima on the high collar, the yellow bangles on his wrist, the decorative sash around his waist—and combined them with the new robes, which were purple and dark blue in color. The cloak was longer and trimmed in gold, while a separate ribbon extended from the garment that bore another eye of Grima on the front side. The torso section of the clothing was sheerer and more transparent than his last outfit, and several golden plaits were worn in the silk itself.

The totality of it seemed sillier, fancier, and more superfluous than he expected. The personal flourishes were certainly Robin's doing, and Henry couldn't say that he liked them better or worse for it. It was nice to have familiarity within his personage, though, and he self-consciously drifted in front of the mirror that Robin left there, so as to see himself in full length.

He wasn't sure, but he had a feeling that he actually liked the new style he was wearing. It screamed  _"Plegian!"_ in a loud voice, but it also sang a soft tune of  _"Henry~"_ as well. He pulled at the gold fixtures, readjusted the silk sashes, and affixed his assortment of rings and bangles on his fingers, wrists, and ankles. The whole time he had his eyes wide open, contrary to his usual behavior of keeping them closed. He murmured things underneath his breath, and constantly kept looking back to the reflection he saw in the mirror.

A monster was staring at itself in wonder. The smile wasn't there for once, and Henry felt like he had temporarily forgotten the motion in its entirety. Instead, his lips were caught in an expressionless angle, eyes as blank as his face when he noticed it. He faltered and became stuck in a wrinkle of time. Things seemed to halt as he pondered himself in this way, irises shifting slightly in color (they were just as blue as Ricken said they were, much to his chagrin) due to a curse that he described earlier, and was actually _real._  He wished his younger self wasn't so inaccurate when it came to slinging spells back then, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He just watched as the palest of blue tints start to darken, and them becoming indigo-like before falling into that shade altogether.

He was lost in time and was perpetually stuck looking at his own stupid, insipid, indigo eyes. There wasn't anything to look past that, however, and his mind raced with everything and nothing at once. Cold and hot cancelled each other out, and his body felt empty with this sensation. He felt like he charmed himself with a spell somehow, because no matter what he did he could not look away from his reflected image. He could not stir up hot anger or cool resolve within him, nor could he deign his mind to think of anything—and  _nothing._

He wanted to strike the mirror until the glass shards splintered him in the eyes, but he couldn't will his arms to move. He wanted to bang his forehead against the glass until he cracked it open, but remained motionless as he was. It was infuriating, but there was not enough passion in his shriveled heart to form outward anger. He just simmered and simmered in his own emotive rot, hands shaking at the sight of himself and nothing else.

Henry was lucky, though. He was so lost in his own mind that he did not hear someone slip into his tent, letting the flaps fly open with the ardent wind. Light, almost silent footsteps were audible behind him, but he paid no attention to that. The only time he registered another presence in his head was when he felt a cool, orotund voice speak into the room.

"You clean up nicely, Junior."

The sorcerer blinked once, twice—then looked through the mirror to see the reflection of Gaius standing behind him. He seemed to be staring at Henry though the mirror as well, and he wore a look surprise that didn't match his suave sentiments. Was it because he was properly seeing Henry's eyes for the first time? Did he expect Henry to have blood red irises to match his disposition? Or black holes for sclera that didn't reflect anything but a monstrosity? Was he appalled or secretly pleased by the indigo shades that the Plegian's irises had taken on? Henry couldn't tell, as he spent most of his mental energy trying to create a spark within himself again—pushing down a mental rock that would hopefully get rolling soon.

He turned around in a large flourish, and presented his branded smile. It was too late to obscure his eyes from Gaius, so he settled on narrowing them to appear sinister in the least way possible. He laughed to cover it all up, but the sound was far more monotonous than he would like it to be. "Is that a compliment I'm hearing, Honeybuns? That's not like you."

"It's the only one you'll get from me," he insisted, contrasting his words with a rather friendly smile. "Don't be mistaken, though. I thought this was Bubbles' tent, y'see..."

"It hasn't been Robin's tent for a few days. You're just as slow as ever!" Henry joked, knowing that Gaius' speed was nothing to sneeze at. But the vicious banter they once held between each other seemed to want to start up again. For some reason, though, Henry did not feel like riling things up as he usually did. He was probably suffering from that curse he felt like he cast upon himself just earlier. The memory of staring into his own eyes haunted him, and an involuntary shiver climbed up his back.

Gaius did not notice this, and kept talking in an equally taunting voice. "Don't blame me for that, I just woke up and I guessed no one bothered to give me the memo." He appeared to be genuinely disconcerted at this fact, yet he turned on his heels to exit the tent in its entirety. Before his figure left completely, however, he glanced over his shoulder to meet Henry's uncertain eyes with his own. Gaius called out to him clearly: "See you 'round, Junior."

Then he was gone, and Henry was left feeling like he had been ambushed just now. He finally closed his eyes all the way, and forced that grin of his to extend as far as it would go. His voice was wobbly with an unknown excitement, and he called out after the thief despite knowing that he would not hear him.

"See you around, Gaius!"


	11. Apologies and Attitudes

Gaius had woken up earlier in the day, absolutely stunned and dizzy like he drank a whole barrel of mead beforehand. The bedroll felt like a rolling hill underneath his head, which only helped to worsen the unsteadiness in his mind. Sunspots and afterimages danced in his vision, and he was sure that he heard someone singing by his side. But the more he tried to focus on it, the more the song faded away into meaningless garble. He tried moving his arms but they were lead-heavy and persistent to stay down at his side. A halfhearted groan escaped his lips, and he felt someone rub their fingers gently into his arm, consoling him in the same motion.

"Gaius, it's okay." It was Robin, of course, for he could recognize their worried voice anywhere. It was the sound of someone with a million thoughts and responsibilities on their shoulders, yet despite that burden they never dragged their feet nor complained. They were so admirable in ways he could never hope to be, so their mere presence alone was comforting enough.

"Mmm," he slurred, rubbing at his eyes to try and banish the spots he was seeing. "Uhh...what's going on?"

"You've been sleeping for a while now," Robin offered the explanation gently and carefully, enunciating the words as clearly as possible. "You were badly hurt. It's all my fault, too. I'm so sorry, Gaius."

"Feels like it," he agreed, "but don't...don't apologize. It's just...we gotta stop meeting like this. I—" a pause in his words as he coughed gently into the air, unable to block the motion with his arm— "Ugh. I don't like being in this Gods forsaken tent anymore."

"You're right," Robin said, "this is a bad place to keep running into each other, isn't it? But you'll be fine now that you're awake. I was so worried about you, Gaius, but I'm happy that you're okay now." They laughed weakly at their own relief, and buried their face and arms into Gaius' in a lopsided hug. The thief smiled widely, and haphazardly threw his arms around to pat the tactician on the back.

"There, there." He consoled them in a playful tone. "There, there, Bubbles. S' all right."

"Yes, it's alright  _now_ ," they whispered, breaking free of the embrace with reluctance. "It's alright now."

...

When Gaius was more lucid, he discovered that he had been unconscious for days. He had stirred on his eighth day of recovery, but fell back asleep after talking with Robin (and hugging them) for a few moments. Maribelle came in at that time and affixed him more medicine and sedatives, and by the morning of the ninth day the thief was fully awake and reinstated in the world. He joked around like usual, and insisted that he was just as fine as he had been before the cave heist.

Although Robin protested this idea, saying that a head injury could have multiple aftereffects that could severely hinder Gaius. To this, the thief's disposition grew sour, and he questioned the tactician's intentions. "What are you sayin', Bubbles? I can still walk and talk and everything else! I'm right as rain, I tell ya."

"I'm saying that you simply shouldn't overwork yourself," they retorted, a bitter gleam appearing in their apologetic eyes. "Just because you feel better doesn't mean you should go gallivanting off on another mission. If anything, you're going to rest for the next few days while everyone else helps to pack up camp. We're moving up north soon."

"Crivens," he cursed aloud, eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Well, a little rest is fine by me. But don't start treating me like some invalid, alright? That's the worst part of being injured. People think you're suddenly out of commission."

"You have my word, Gaius." Robin reassured them. "If you need something to keep you busy, though, I was looking into a few things for you. You've been a thief for so long, I wonder if you have ever thought about being something  _more._ "

"More?" He repeated the word, like he didn't know what it meant. "Like, a  _really good_ thief? Or do you mean—"

"I have knowledge about all professions in this world," Robin explained, "and I think you would be fitting to do something more  _dangerous._ Does being an assassin sound inviting to you?"

"Oh damn!" He exclaimed, eyes widening with excitement and surprise. "I never thought about it, actually...been too busy stealing stuff to think about getting stuff to be better at stealing stuff. Y'know? A thief's life is never restful."

"Well, if you're willing to go on the higher path of ability, I'm willing to help you." Robin smiled sadly. "It's the least I can do for all the trouble I've caused you."

"Bubbles," Gaius grabbed their shoulders firmly, shaking them back and forth half jokingly as he did so. "It's no trouble at all. You hear me? I'd do whatever I can for you and you'd do the same. I respect blokes like that." A thoughtful pause ensued, before he tacked on the end: "But I don't think you're a bloke, that's not what I mean! I'm saying I admire you, y'know? So don't worry about all this stuff. Spilled milk is spilled."

"You're far too forgiving, Gaius. But I thank you all the same. Then, I will do my best to help you reach your potential." Their genuine smiled transformed into a wry smirk, and they placed their hands on their hips in the most astute way. "So before we start on those deadly techniques, why don't I fix you up something nicer to wear?"

"I appreciate it but a costume change ain't necessary. I like my clothes," Gaius insisted, pulling a lollipop out from his belt and sucking on it. "It's got everything I need, and it's my brand, so I really shouldn't—"

"—Nonsense, I insist!" The tactician grabbed them by the hands, eyes sparkling with the sea of opportunity before them. Gaius hadn't noticed it before, but there was a large chest and wardrobe in Robin's tent, those which conveniently opened up to reveal a plethora of outfits. The thief gulped.

He was in for the long haul.

...

By the time Gaius reached Henry's tent, he was dressed in his new garb. It was similar to his previous outfit, but more colorful and threatening at first glance. The browns and grays had been replaced by shades of blue and oak, little dabbles of orange to compliment the Ylissean's hair. There was leather armor, stronger and more reinforced than his previous ones, in the form of an abdomen guard, arm guards, and shin guards. Protruding from the thief's arms were various blades of different sizes, some were removable for use in battle while others were affixed to their spot on the armor, serving as deadly edges to cut the enemies with whilst Gaius ran around the field.

His scarf was refurbished in a darker color, and soft as a kitten's pelt against his neck. He had indefinitely more pockets and spaces to place candy in, but his favorite thing to do was to store mints in the fold of his scarf where he could suck them out like a vacuum using his mouth. It was quite entertaining to Robin when he gave a display of this in person, but ultimately he was happy with the little makeover as it proved useful rather than burdensome.

While he wasn't there to impress with his charming looks, however, he was a bit miffed that Henry didn't return his goodhearted compliments. It wasn't often that Gaius saw the Plegian in a positive light, so for him to be amicable instead of hostile was a rarity. But he hardly thought of this as he was caught off guard by the other's beautiful, shocking eyes. They were indigo in color—an impossibly pretty shade that matched their sorcerer's robes exactly. The lashes were longer than he realized, and the same blank white appearance as the hair on Henry's head. The boy's darker skin was a good contrast for this, and he seemed ethereally pleasant in the small exchange he had with Gaius.

The thief had never seen Henry with his eyes open for so long. He recalled a few times in their past when he stole glances of the other's irises, but beyond that the white-haired male remained persistent in having his eyes closed at all times. Gaius vaguely wondered why that was, but kept his inquiries silent as he spoke. Seeing that Henry wasn't particularly happy to see him, he figured he should have stopped messing around and looked for Robin instead—the original reason why he meandered to the tent to begin with.

As the assassin left, he swore he heard Henry call out after him, but the noise was lost as a stumbling Sumia came his way and nearly spilled the dirty laundry on his new outfit. The brunette was in distress and choked out an apology, to which Gaius responded by shrugging it off and helping her with the load. When he finished with that, he set off again to find Robin for real this time, only to learn that the tactician-turned-grandmaster had set off with with Vaike, Gregor, Panne, Nowi, and Kellam to dispel a large group of Risen heading for a village nearby.

Seeing that his search was useless, he decided to do something that would actually matter. From the convoy wagons, he took a shining bronze bow and a quiver of arrows. Along with a trusty silver sword and killing edge, Gaius equipped himself for any upcoming battle. But he also wanted to train with the archer's weapon, for it was a new thing for him to experience seeing as he was only used to swords and the occasional dagger.

He set out for the training grounds, thinking only of Henry as he did so.

...

Using the bow and arrows proved easier than he expected. The bronze bolts were sleek to the touch, and when Gaius brought the arrow to the bow and pulled back on the string, he felt elegant and concentrated. He focused on the target in the distance, aiming for the colorful bulls-eye in the center. The wind picked up and he felt the breeze, estimating in his head the angle at which he should shoot. Then he held his breath, straightened his back, and let loose the shaft.

The arrow glided through the air, silently singing as its metal tip whirled through the wind. Within seconds, the arrow made contact with the target, and Gaius was satisfied as he could see a perfect center shot. The arrow wiggled before settling still, and Gaius pulled another bolt from his quiver. He decided to be fancier with his movements this time, and spun the arrow around before holding it to the bow. Then he crouched in a manner that was emulating what using arrows in battle might look like, and he fired away.

This time, the arrow was a bit curved in its path, as it swerved slightly to the right then back center again. It landed an inch or two away from the bulls-eye, and Gaius was confused on how the math and science of it all worked. But like anything, practice makes perfect, so he kept firing arrows into the target until his quiver was empty.

Being pleased with his work, he walked out to the field to collect the arrows. He returned them to their place in the quiver, and did another round on a different target. For a few hours or so, he was totally engrossed in his archery training, and by the end of it he was sure that he mastered the basics. He would come back on a later day for more stimulating practice, although he dreaded confronting the stuffy Virion for sparring, as the man was the only notable archer in the army at present.

As the assassin headed back to camp, he could feel something watching him. It made him wary, but not uneasy as he was used to being spied on. If he had lots of enemies before the Shepherds, he made even  _more_  by becoming a part of them. His hand rested on an arrow in his quiver, and when he heard some rustling noises in the trees ahead of him, he drew the shaft out and armed his bow with it. He took a readied stance, and waited.

Something soared from the trees, so Gaius turned on his feet and fired into the air. He watched as the arrow flew through the skies and barely missed the source of the noise.

It was a crow. Or it was a raven, but he couldn't tell the difference and he didn't care. The black bird was flapping its great wings through the sky, and the arrow zipped by its tail feathers in a close shave. The ginger's heart fell at the silly attack he carried out, one that was against a bird and not a person like he initially feared it was.

The crow circled the sky and cawed loudly, letting an inky feather drift down from its plume. Gaius groaned and smacked his forehead with his palm.  _Really?_ He thought,  _You're gonna start shootin' at the birds now? Sheesh._

"You ought to be careful with that aim. You can really kill someone like that!"

Gaius whipped around and nearly stumbled at what he saw. It was Henry, no doubt, and the sorcerer was smiling at the silly display of Gaius' that he undoubtedly witnessed. His cape trailed out behind him, and his bangles rung a hollow sound with the slightest of movements. Something that the Ylissean didn't notice earlier was that the Plegian adorned a shiny golden hair clip in his snowy locks, the shape of which stood out to be like an angel's wing.

Quite ironic, if you asked Gaius. He snorted at him, and eased his battle stance which had so naturally been formed. "So that was you, right? Tell your crows not to startle a man when he's alone."

"They can't help it," he said, "they're attracted to life. To danger. I think it's silly of them, too, but that's crows for you." A disingenuous laugh came from his mouth, and he twirled in a childish motion. "I'm like the crows. I'm attracted to danger."

"Um," Gaius didn't know what to say, as this was one of the stranger encounters he has had with Henry. His earthen eyes narrowed in confusion, and he rubbed the back of his neck with stiff movements. "Uh, okay? I'm not sure what you're getting at."

"You're dangerous, you know." Henry stated, as if Gaius was already supposed to know this and more. "But that's not why I'm here. I wanted to come get you because it's lunch time. Robin told Libra who told Maribelle who told Ricken who told  _me_ that they don't want you skipping out on meals anymore. " Saying that sentence was fun enough by itself, and Henry cackled at how fluently he was able to relay it.

"Oh, that's it?" Gaius blinked. "They're like parents, that lot. Well it's just your luck, 'cause I was headed towards the mess hall, anyway. Although I heard Tharja's on cooking duty, so I'm not sure how much I'd like to have my arse cursed off in the form of clam chowder." A dour expression appeared on his face, as he terrorized the thought of the dark woman poisoning his food—or even worse, his preciously sweets supply.

"Okay! I swore to Tharja not to reveal her secrets so you'll just have to find out how her food tastes by yourself." Henry said. "If that's all, then I'm going to go now. Bye~" He twirled once more, this time making a half-turn to face his back towards Gaius. He stuck his arms out and flapped them like the crows he loved so well. Little cawing noises escaped his lips, and he zigzagged down the path in an equally strange fashion.

While he shouldn't have found that to be endearing, Gaius did see a certain  _charm_  in the other's odd nature. He felt something warm bubble inside of him, and he didn't know if it was a curse, a feeling, or just stomach acid begging for food. Maybe it was some unknown mix of the three, but whatever it was it made Gaius stagger forward and grab Henry's wrist, stopping the boy in mid-step.

The sorcerer seemed taken aback by this motion as his shoulders hunched up for a few seconds. He relaxed them after realizing what happened, and turned his head slowly to face the assassin. His eyes were closed but Gaius felt like he was staring straight into his indigo irises. He gulped.

"Henry," he began to say, temporarily discarding the nickname he had set up for him. "I need to tell you something."

"Oh," was his response, half-hearted and weirdly empty. Maybe he was shocked by the sincerity in Gaius' voice. "What is it?"

"I think we should start over," he blurted out without thinking, "I know it's kind of late for amendments but I've changed my mind about you."

Henry's lips twitched, and slowly rose to form a soft smile. "Hmm? What do you mean? I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Yes you do." Gaius insisted, still clinging onto the other's thin wrist. He glanced at it before continuing. "All that shit we went through, you  _know_  what I'm talking about. I say we start a new slate right now. I don't mean forget what already happened, because that ain't right. But, I mean, we could  _start over._ We got off to the wrong foot, anyway. It's all water under the bridge if we let it be." There was a kind of desperation in Gaius' voice that not even  _he_ could recognize. He felt like someone else was talking through him—someone that was much gentler than him.

The sorcerer was prominently quiet as a result, not even laughing in this moment. Gaius felt it strange to see him so calm and composed, not wearing that widely fake grin as he always did. This softer, more kinder expression suited him more, somehow. The thought of it made Gaius' heart stir tamely.

 _What is this?_ He asked himself mentally.  _What am I doing?_

"O~kay~" Henry finally spoke, voice fluctuating in wobbly motions. He sounded disembodied and empty, but happy and content at the same time. It didn't make sense. "Okay," he repeated himself. "I see what you mean." His words were methodical and unlike him. Gaius wanted to scream at him for some reason, but he bit down on his tongue to let the other speak. "I understand."

"You do?" Gaius wondered, and slowly let go of the other's wrist. He was half worried that Henry would run away, or would make a mockery of what was supposed to be a genuine reconciliation. "So what do you say?"

"I'm willing to put it behind us~ I have enough things haunting me that I don't need you to add on to it, haha~" He deflected the seriousness of the situation with a joke. There was a reluctance in his voice that was harrowing, but it faded as Henry kept nodding. "Yes, I agree. Let's start over."

"I'm glad." He really was, and an arid breath he did not realize he was holding let loose. The earth uncoiled from the pressure of the sky, and finally felt free. "Then let's take it from the top. The name's Gaius," he said clearly, "but a certain dastard has been known for calling me  _Honeybuns,_ thinking he's sly. I don't mind it in the end. And you are?"

Henry liked this game they were playing. His smile elongated and seemed lively, for once. He spoke with a vivace that was not there earlier. "My name is Henry," he introduced himself, "and a weirdo calls me  _Junior_ even though he's not that much older than me." This was true and the both of them spared laughter for it. Henry did a mock bow. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Same to you," Gaius returned the gesture, and slapped the boy's back out of hearty relief. "What say you and I go grab some lunch now?"

"I say that the slowest one to arrive at the mess hall has to give their dessert to the other," Henry threatened lightly, savoring the look of disbelief on Gaius' face. Before he could explain, he was already bounding down the dirt path back to the tents, screaming over his shoulder: "Last one there is a rotten Risen!"

Needless to say, the assassin sprinted as far as his legs would take him. He easily caught up to Henry, and gave facetious threats in response to his little game. But just as he said before, he didn't mind it in the end. He laughed and smiled with the Plegian all the way to the mess hall, not caring that they looked like a couple of kids in pursuit of a childish goal. Yet he was satisfied all the same when he easily beat Henry to the chase, relishing in the other's defeat as they crashed into one of the benches.

They sat across from each other, and Henry opened his eyes to glance waywardly in Gaius' direction. The thief's heart skipped a beat upon seeing the color of the boy's eyes, and his mind did a double take when it processed that it had changed color from before. It was not indigo like before, and instead those eyes were dyed a light periwinkle, twinkling with the remnants of soft and gentle blue in the background. In those eyes, he could see himself and the world around him, and the utter serenity that took hold of both of them in the frenzied moments.

Gaius laughed it all off, and in doing so he could feel the dark thrums of his heart reverberating with a light, airy  _forgiveness._


	12. Lunches and Leisures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is very short and pretty much filler. It was necessary to bridge to the next part, though~

They learned the smallest of things about each other in their meal. Gaius learned that Henry preferred not to eat meat, because he loved animals so much and they did plenty of dying without his intervention. He also found out that Henry's favorite food was a spicy, Plegian curry that he did not have the chance to eat since he joined the Shepherds. And due to his own inexperience with cooking, he could never replicate the recipe without making a mess. For that, Henry was sort of jealous of Gaius for having  _some_ proficiency in cooking, even if it was limited mostly to baking.

Henry, on the other hand, discovered that Gaius was allergic to shellfish, hence why he would never be able to live by the harbor because the very air of it would make him sick. He also revealed his own favorite food—a non-sweets food, anyway—and that it was a traditional Ylissean beef stew. "It's supposed to melt in your mouth," Gaius recalled, "the meat is all soft and good, and the broth is flavored by fat and other things. It's tasty as all hell." Then he also went on about a tale where he took on three guys at once, all the while holding a bowl of the favored soup in one hand. Henry laughed at this as he laughed at everything else before it, but Gaius accepted his cheerfulness anyway.

Even if it was fake.

Then the two of them ate the usual luncheon menu—simple stews, breads, and meats on the side. It was hard for any of the Shepherds to try feeding such a large group, even when they did receive a  _lot_  of money recently. Henry vaguely wondered if they could buy some Plegian curry with their treasury, and how much he would like to swim in a bathtub full of the curry if he could. It would be disgusting and useless, but he would eat it and drown in it, too.

As he was thinking of this, Gaius was thinking about how scrawny Henry was. The boy was incredibly thin, even for a mage, and Gaius couldn't help but wonder if that was his body's natural physique, or if he was just unfortunate. Based on the way that Henry ate (quite delicately, actually, and very  _slowly_ ) Gaius decided that it was a combination of both ideas—that Henry was just a reedy person by nature,  _and_ that he was not the best when it came to taking care of himself. Each bite he took seemed more laborious than the last, and eventually he abandoned his meal three-fourths of the way with a wide smile.

"I'm full," was all he said, making sure that the table space around him was clean, too. "And you'll be happy to know that Tharja's underwhelming cooking is curse-free, haha!"

"You sure you don't wanna eat more?" Gaius disregarded the joke as he pointed at the plates. "You didn't finish it all, and Sunshine's cooking ain't so bad."

"Are you worried about me?" Henry asked in a playful manner, clasping his hands together in a dainty way. "Awwww, you're so  _cute_ when you frown like that!"

"I'm not cute," Gaius insisted, puffing his chest out arrogantly, "but stop skirting around the matter. You know we're in a war, right? You gotta take all the grub you can get!"

"No can do. I'm not a big eater, y'see? If you want, you can have my leftovers~ I'm very clean when I eat." He reassured Gaius, as if the problem was with his hygiene and not his picky appetite. The ginger frowned further, and pushed Henry's dishes closer to him forcefully.

"Don't fight me on this. Just eat."

"I won't have to fight you because I'm  _done eating,_ " Henry reasserted himself, the words coming off as only slightly sinister. He was more annoyed than anything. "Honeybuns, if you're this strict around people when they eat, you won't be very popular! I'm okay, really."

"Suit yourself," he muttered angrily, taking spoonfuls of the leftovers and eating them. "You'll be regretting that when you starve out in the field, or something."

"You're probably right." Henry admitted, shrugging his shoulders in nonchalance. "But it's fine. I'll be fine." He leaned forward and placed his face in his hands while staring intently in Gaius' direction. His eyes were closed at this point, and it made Gaius wonder just how he was able to see anything with his eyelids being closed most of the time. He made a note to ask him about it later.

And just as the Ylissean was about to knock some sense into the other, the duo was approached by Frederick. He stood tall and proud, with his arms held behind his back in a polite manner. "Gaius, Henry." He addressed them in a respectful tone, and glanced towards the exit. "I have come to inform you that the formations for the afternoon watch have been switched. I have been instructed to let you two take on the day patrol for now, as it is an easier task for you to take whilst you recover from your grievous mission." His words were as uniform as him, and he gave a bow. "When you are finished sustaining yourselves, I ask that you begin the patrol as soon as possible. Thank you."

He left them with that, armor clinking steadily as he walked away. Henry and Gaius looked at each other, and the former snickered at the opportunity. "Well, that's our cue. You're done, aren't you?" Another wicked smile, and Gaius was starting to tire of the singular expression in and of itself. "Come on, Honeybuns!"

"Alright, I'm goin'!" He shouted, making sure to stack their empty dishes on top of each other. The two of them brought the plates to the washing bin, and left it there for those on cleaning duty as they headed outside the mess hall. They had both been around long enough to be familiar with the errands that were expected of them. Considering the business around camp, they were grateful that they had something as simple as doing a perimeter check and not anything laborious like digging latrines or sorting out the convoy.

Gaius and Henry matched strides as they edged further from camp, and circled the stake marks left by the morning patrol. They looked out for anything strange, and kept a close eye on any potential enemies or Risen in hiding. Many times during the process, Henry was greeted by his crows, who pecked at his clothes and skin lovingly. He fed them crumbs—those that were probably from the bread he didn't eat earlier—and petted them gently as they hopped about from one spot to the next.

"That's a good girl," he said to one of them in a low voice. "Eat well, okay?"

The ginger scoffed loudly, making sure the white-haired male heard the noise in its entirety. He kicked at a rock and watched it tumble down the road and fall into a ditch. His thoughts were bitter.  _You should take your own advice, Henry._ He looked back at the boy who was still tending to the birds like children. His face soured.

_You Gods damned hypocrite._


	13. Questions and Queries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry about the late updates! Hopefully I can finish this damned fic before another year passes it by! Thank you for your continued support!

Their patrol had turned into a game of twenty questions rather quickly. It was only expected, seeing as they never bothered to get personal with each other before. But now that they had the apparent footholds of friendship starting to form beneath them, they seemed to waste no time going through the social formalities. Henry's fingers were trailing along the jet black feathers of a crow's wing, and he seemed like the most content person in the world as he asked his questions in the calmest manner possible.

He started off slow, of course, asking things like "What's your favorite color?" and "Have you ever had a pet?" as icebreakers. Even though they were comfortable enough to speak to each other, Henry knew that they needed to create a common ground before getting to the good stuff. More personal, biting inquiries were waiting to be said, but they remained unasked in the darkest corners of the Plegian's mind. He smiled carefully as he waited for his minimal answers.

"My favorite color is probably...orange?" Gaius joked, referencing his hair in all obviousness. "Actually I think it's black or green. Maybe blue. I've never really thought about it before."

"Mine is purple," Henry began, "and black and blue and gold and red and—"

"—So all of them?"

"Yes."

Gaius chuckled, shaking his head back and forth as he glanced to the side. All was peaceful and there were no signs of trouble.  _None of the usual enemies today,_ he thought,  _they must have heard the news about those bandits. It's better they stay away like this. Serves 'em right._

"And pets?" Henry piped up, interrupting the other's train of thought. "Did you ever have a pet before?"

"Nope. It's hard enough to take care of yourself without worrying about someone else. You gotta treat animals with respect, don't ya? So they've been out of the question for me since I was a kid." A sad but true fact elucidated itself, and the thief was not better or worse for it. He just accepted it for what it was. "I think it's too late to have pets now, and I'm not so keen on the idea of having a steed."

"That's too bad. I  _love_ animals! Especially these birdies. I've always had the crows by my side~ They really like me! And I used to be close to a wolf, too." The words came out too quickly and Henry couldn't modify them as he wanted to. He froze in his place and pretended that his crow was too fussy so he didn't have to elaborate. Gaius saw through this, and pressed forward on the matter.

"A wolf? Those things are the definition of wild animals, y'know. How'd you get close to one?" Gaius asked, genuine curiosity rolling off his tongue. Henry did not want to answer him, but he did not want to ignore him, either. The boy thought for a moment before deciding what to say.

"I was young when I met her. I was lost in the woods and she took care of me." It was not a lie, but not necessarily the full truth, either. Yet he knew it was better than recounting that horrid and loving story of a wolf mother that took him in as her own. He knew it was better to keep it under wraps, lest the same blind rage from that day find itself needling into his body once more. He knew it would dredge up something vile and insipid—something that he kept drowned in the murky waters of his mind up until this point. He could feel the surface rippling and struggled to keep it at bay.  _Not now,_ he forced himself to think,  _please not now._

Thinking about the whole ordeal made Henry's hands tremble, but he hid them in the crevices of his cape. His own fear kept him tethered to reality, and he pretended to be alright when Gaius asked him if he missed her. "Yeah, I miss her a lot sometimes. But it's over now."

"Aw, that sucks." It was all he could think to say in response. "At least you made some good memories with her. I can't even imagine..."

"Anyway," Henry said, desperately wanting to change the subject, "I've wanted to ask you this since I met you. Why do you like sweets so much? Doesn't it just make you sick sometimes?"

"Oh, Junior." Gaius lamented, shaking his head back and forth in disappointment. "Oh, sweet and naive Junior. Don''t you know that sweets are the best things to walk this earth since...I don't know, us? I mean, what's there to not like about desserts? They taste great, they feel great, they  _are_ great. I just love them and that's all there is to it." The thief conveniently left out the fact that sweets were easier to steal than anything, and kept him alive during his young and infantile years.

"Boring~" Henry mused, setting the crow down on the ground where it hopped away playfully before taking flight. He waved it goodbye. "Here I was, thinking that maybe you lost a bet to someone and had to eat only sweets for the rest of your life. That would have been way cooler than what you just told me."

"It would have been a  _lie_ ," Gaius retorted, "but I  _wish_ someone could force me to only eat sweets forever. Then I'd be satisfied for the rest of my life."

"I doubt it," Henry snickered, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth dramatically. "You'd get sick and die within the first two weeks. Maybe the first  _three weeks_ if you're lucky."

"I'll give up sweets when I'm dead," he reassured, smirking at his own sly rebuke. "Listen, I'm no greenie. I know when to cut it quits. But until then there's no reason not to partake in life's greatest treasure. Speaking of which..."

He took out some chocolate bars from his pocket, and offered one to Henry. The sorcerer hesitated, as if Gaius was offering him some mutated fish head instead. (But even then he would have stared at it all the same) He reached out and grabbed the candy, and started unwrapping it from its paper casing. Breaking off a piece with a delicious  _snap,_ he placed it in his mouth and let it melt.

It was really,  _really_ good. He recognized the packaging from Gaius' secret candy stash, the same one that he had tampered with those many days ago. It seemed like an eternity since then, and while Henry has eaten this treat before, it tasted much  _sweeter_ just now. Perhaps his newly rekindled relationship with Gaius was the source of such sweetness. Maybe it was because they were starting to know each other past their deadliness and fighting prowess, and they were becoming familiar with the people beneath their own facades.

Of course, Henry could never truly give himself away. His heart was a pure steel fortress that had reinforced itself exponentially over the years. It would not be easy to  _really_ let someone in, and no person had done it before. Even Ricken, his closest friend and confidant, was unknowing of the secrets that the Plegian kept to himself. The darkness which festered within him was an eternally open wound with no chance to heal.

So although Gaius was not the first person to try and infiltrate Henry's heart, he was the one with the best chance of even getting there in the first place. And to this, the Plegian boy grinned from ear to ear, giving a thumbs up in response to having eaten Gaius' chocolate.

"Not bad," he said, "but I think we both know that you can do way better than  _that._ "

...

There was something worse than long marches or sleepless nights in the Shepherds camp. There were things more dreadful than being killed by enemy soldiers or destroyed by mindless Risen alike. And certainly, there was something that put every excruciating, torturous experience in the book to shame. Gaius was feeling it, he was stuck in that terrible something as he spoke—every ounce of his willpower screaming for escape from the hellish situation.

He was stuck in a game of pleasantries. But not just any pleasantries—the "get to know you better" pleasantries. What started off as a few innocuous questions soon turned into a back-and-forth relay of annoying inquiries, those which asked Gaius everything from his hobbies to his habits. Henry talked like a rapid fire storm, the cruel lilt in his voice reminiscent of an archer's continuous arrows shooting out into the wind. Whenever Gaius dodged one question, he had to answer another. Every time he divulged the sorcerer with his personal life, he was bombarded by more queries.

"Childhood dream?"

"To eat every kind of cake in the whole world."

"Favorite weapon?"

"A silver sword that I forged myself. It broke in the last battle, though."

"How many lumps of sugar do you put in your tea?"

"At least six. If the tea was made by either Twinkles or Stumbles I add at least ten."

"Role model?"

"Myself."

"Favorite thing to do during the summer?"

"Crivens, I don't know. Swimming?"

"How many—"

"—Cut it out already!" Gaius snapped, screeching to a halt in his stride in order to better reprimand the other. This was his hundredth question already, he was sure of it, and he didn't know how much of this Henry had left in him. If he asked any more trivial questions, Gaius would have no choice but to shut him up forcefully, or run away so as to escape the dread of this conversation.  _He can be so annoying,_ he thought,  _he's worse than a burnt rhubarb pie. And nothing's worse than that!_

"Aw, how come?" Henry was oblivious to the stress he was causing, as each question only fueled his innate curiosity further. To him this was similar to breathing or drinking water. These formalities were  _essential_ to his being, and he felt his heart thrum wildly against his chest because of it. "What's wrong? They're just harmless questions."

"They're harmless if you ask a few of them," Gaius noted, "but if you ask hundreds of them in a row it gets old  _real quick._ " He huffed out indignantly, leaning forward so as to impose his height and weight on the shorter and thinner Plegian. It was a classic technique of intimidation, but Henry seemed unaffected as he replied casually.

"I'm just trying to get to know you~ Is there anything wrong with that? You're the one that wanted a fresh start!" A widespread grin appeared on his face where a small smile had been before, and the ends of it stretched so far that Gaius thought Henry's face would break apart. "Once I'm done you can ask me some questions to even it out, okay?"

"I hate when you're right," Gaius grumbled, "which is hardly  _ever_ , by the way. But I'll let you have your cake, and eat it too. Just don't ask the common stuff. I already told you my favorite everything! My favorite animal, color, food, song, poem, dessert, recipe, weapon, name, flower—all of it! If you want to know something, ask something  _worth knowing_."

"Okay." He mumbled. "Let's see...this is interesting to start with! Do you have a family? Do you have anyone waiting for you back at home?" The question was the most tolerable one so far, despite its personal roots. The way Henry asked it made him sound like he was genuinely concerned with Gaius' life. But he seemed curious more than anything, and he tilted his head far to the right for emphasis. "Or are you alone?"

Gaius hesitated, lean figure relaxing after having been tense from the needless question-asking for so long. Now this was something that he could work with—this was something that was meaningful and would be useful should he divulge the information at hand. While he was not one to give everything away at once, he would be civil and let a few secrets here and there go free. Besides, in a period of war it was only natural to think of the civilians back home. Should the two of them see it through this endless campaign, then the historians and gossipers would pry this information from them, anyway. The assassin cleared his throat, looking Henry straight in the eye as he answered.

"No." He stated, being serious for once. "Growing up, it was just me and my parents. I was an only child so once they died I was on my own. I've had lots of encounters on the way, but no one that I would seriously consider my family. So I'm in this war for myself. Didn't you hear how I joined? Chrom offered me some of Lissa's sweets so I stayed." There was a bitter smile on his face, and he narrowed his eyes so as to appear more selfish than he was. Henry didn't believe him this way. "I'm in it to win it."

"I don't really believe you," Henry revealed, deadpan voice contrasting greatly with his grin. "I don't believe that you're a soldier for selfish reasons, I mean. But that's too bad about your family. It'd be cool if there was a long lineage of gingers patiently waiting for you to get back to them~" The thought of it alone was enough to humor Henry, so he laughed gently at the idea.

"Huh. You're a strange kid, alright. But you knew that already." He simply reaffirmed the statement aloud just to hear himself say it. After that, Gaius returned the question to Henry, deciding it was high time to get some information about  _his_ personal life, instead. "So what about you, Junior? What's your family like?"

Frozen again. It was like someone hexed him to become immobile. He couldn't help it, though. Whenever he got stumped like this, the rest of him became as still as stone whilst his body caught up with his mind. There were many brief moments in time where he remembered his parents. He could see their visage in his head, and from his perspective they were ten feet tall and frightening. Their eyes were blank and unloving, and their fingers were harsh and cold. There was something in the way they stood that made him think otherwise, though. They always were slouched, hunched over, or cowering away in their stance. Was he remembering the right people?

He hoped he was. He lurched forward suddenly, the movement startling Gaius as it happened. There was a sort of faint wistfulness in his voice—a slight tilt in the way his words formed that sounded heavier and quieter than usual. "It was just my parents. They didn't really care about me." The next sentences would have to be formed carefully, more carefully than anything else thus far. Henry swallowed the delay in his throat. "They dumped me at some orphanage when they decided they didn't want me anymore. I never saw them after that~"

The words hung in the air like fog. It was not a sentence, but a hefty weight that latched onto Gaius' chest and sunk him lower. It was a chilling, thick fog that sent a cold snap surging through his skin, making the hairs on his neck stand on end. There was no semblance of passion, anger, or disappointment in Henry's voice, either. There was only a dire confusion and blatant nonchalance that Gaius knew to be fabricated. There was no way that anyone could simply recite their horrific past like a shopping list, yet Henry did so all the same. He said the words "orphanage" and "parents" like they were "eggs" and "milk" instead.

Gaius could not believe it. He didn't want to, because now he felt guilty for being so blunt. But could he help it, with all the incessant questions? In a way he felt that Henry backed himself into that corner, and there was no fathomable reason why. Perhaps it was a subconscious cry for help. Maybe he meant to tell Gaius that all along and just did not know how to.  _Bully for him, then._ The Ylissean thought dryly.  _I didn't need to know that._

By the time Gaius could think of a sensible response, it was too late. Henry was already skipping ahead of him, visibly disinterested in his speechlessness as he went further and further down the path ahead of him. He checked under rocks and bushes for signs of strife, but after finding none he just waved back to Gaius with a wide grin. "No enemies here!" He would say, utterly pleased with his work. "If you keep dilly-dallying they might just show up!" Then his cape would fly out behind him in a dramatic motion when he turned his back on Gaius.

He knew he had crossed personal territory, but Henry passed that point long ago. Was the Plegian not used to social intimacy? If that were the case then Gaius would have to adjust to being his guide in this emotional world, and teach him a thing or two about self-expression. He was called Gaius the Nimble and Gaius the Quick and many other names, but there was one particular moniker that he loved leagues above the rest.

 _Steel-hearted Gaius. Gold Veins Gaius._ Personal, secret names he sometimes referred to himself arrogantly because he knew himself better than anyone else. He knew what kind of person he was, and what kind of person he came across others as. With that experience, more than anything else, he decided that Henry would become his apprentice in learning the ways of the human heart. He would know the anger, sadness, and happiness of it all, if Gaius were willing to teach him.

And when olive-colored eyes stared wistfully at the prancing silhouette of a thin, wiry mess of a boy, they  _knew_ that they were more than willing. They were  _wanting_ to do this. Following his heart instead of his head for once, Gaius sprinted down the paths, and called out to Henry.

"Worry about  _me,_ Junior! I'm a thousand times scarier than any stupid spy!"


	14. Hints and Hindsights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This update, like the one for my other Fire Emblem longfic "Pangram", is long overdue! I thank you all so much for your continued interest in this story! I plan on finishing it in its entirety this year, but I also plan on rewriting some of the earlier chapters.
> 
> That being said, hopefully a two-chapter update will help things along :) Thank you for being patient! I appreciate it!

Their patrol continued on for some time. They found nothing in the way of bandits, spies, or even plain Risen. Their surroundings were so in tact that they vaguely wondered why they had to move camp again, especially when it seemed that things were finally calm for once. But they knew better than to question the decisions made by their grandmaster, so they simply complied with their orders.

Although Gaius was skeptical in every sense, and his pride lead him to believe that Robin was doing this out of pity. Because of the cave incident that happened a while back, moving camps and leaving the treacherous terrain behind them was necessary. At least, that was what Robin thought when they made the decision to relocate to another site up north. And for the most part, whatever decisions Robin made were followed perfectly and without complaint.

Still, there was a first time for everything, and Gaius figured that when he got a chance later he would give Robin a piece of his mind. He huffed angrily, still bitter about what the grandmaster had promised him. They said they wouldn't treat Gaius like some invalid, right? They said they would treat him the way they had been treating him up to now, right? A single head injury couldn't have been enough to alter everyone's opinion of him, right?

He asked himself these questions, a bit immersed in the way of figuring out why things were happening as they did. It helped that the afternoon patrol was as exciting as watching the grass grow, because the intermittent silence in between routine checks of the perimeter were what allowed Gaius' thoughts to go wayward in the first place. If it weren't for Henry's presence at his side, he might have strayed even farther than originally anticipated.

"Hey," Henry said. "Do you think that animals go to the same places that people do when they die?"

"That depends. Where do  _you_ think people go when they die?" Gaius turned the question on its head, and brought a hand to his chin as he rubbed it thoughtfully. "If you don't have a place in mind, then there's no need to worry, right?"

"I  _guess,_ " Henry conceded, sounding strangely unamused despite the smile on his face. "Well, let's say that bad people go to a bad place, and good people go to a good place. Where do animals go, in that case? The same places as humans or different ones? Like, do you think there's a Naga and a Grima for the birds? Or the dogs?"

"Crivens, like  _I_ would know," Gaius muttered. "Well, why not? People are animals, too. Don't see why we should get an exclusive afterlife from the birds and whatnot."

"Oh, that's so  _sweet_ of you!" Henry cheered, smiling even wider at the thought of it. "Although all those bugs you've probably squashed would hate to see you turn up in the afterlife. Not to mention all the people you've killed—"

"—That's why it's called an  _afterlife._ I don't gotta worry 'till I'm dead, right?" Gaius scoffed, and kicked at another loose rock in the dirt paths. He watched it clutter down the road before talking again. "When I die, I'll accept any socially awkward situations that come afterward."

"Pfft, you're so  _silly,_ Honeybuns." Henry reverted back to the casual nickname he had first given Gaius all those days ago. Unlike those past times, however, he said the name with something that almost resembled  _fondness._ The blank tone of his voice was the only thing barring it from its true potential as an affectionate statement.

He ignored the fluttering in his chest.

"I'm just bein' honest, here." Gaius raised his hands in front of him in a defensive wave, but let them rest after he was done gesturing. "And going off that honesty, I'd say this patrol was a waste of time. There's not an enemy for miles of this place. But it's like Freddy said, huh? This is an easy job and it's the only one they'll give us, since the two of us are recovering or whatever."

"You call him  _Freddy?"_ Henry asked, genuinely curious at this little factoid. "And he lets you get away with that? Hoo,  _boy,_ am I gonna give him a piece of my mind the next time I go to one of his fitness hours! And after that, I'll give him a piece of my heart, my liver, my kidneys, my stomach, and my—"

"—Cut it out," Gaius said, more annoyed than anything. "I got nicknames for everyone. I just don't always say them, is all. A fella's gotta have some tact when dealing with other people, y'know."

Gaius stared at Henry for a bit, as if to silently say  _you've gotta learn that the hard way, Junior._ If the message got across or not, Henry didn't show it. He just smiled again, and busied himself with the crows that still followed after him all this time like he was their mother. He humored them all the same by feeding them more breadcrumbs, and gently caressing their jet-black plumage with a careful hand.

He laughed. "Okay, whatever you say, Honeybuns! Let's finish up the patrol and get back to, I dunno, sitting around and doing nothing. Since Robin and the others probably won't let us do any  _real_ jobs until we move camp, probably."

"You're right about that, at least. Let's pick up the pace, then. And if you're gonna start asking weird questions, just remember what I said earlier."

"Yeah, yeah. You said something like ' _Ask something that's worth knowing',_ right? Sheesh, even a dumb Risen can get that much through their heads!" He cackled at his own humor, tapping his fingers against the side of his own skull. "But I promised to let you ask some questions, didn't I? So it's actually  _your turn_ to ask me something!"

"Oh, okay." Gaius rubbed at the back of his head. "Uh, lemme see...actually, I've been wanting to ask you this since I first met you." He glanced at the other carefully, gauging for a reaction to this possible confession in the making.

Henry, unfortunately seemed completely unbothered by it. His trademark smile was as empty and apparent as ever, and the only sign that he understood anything that Gaius just said was the slight nod in which his head moved.

"How can you see when your eyes are always closed?" He paused a short moment, then added on: "And why do you keep them closed to begin with?"

"Ooh, getting to the good stuff, are we? That's just like you!" Henry giggled again, the movements making his cloak tremble and giving his overall appearance the look of a shaking shadow. "Well, I'll tell you. I can actually  _see_ with my eyes closed, just as well as if they were open."

"Really? You're serious?"

"Super serious! If I'm lying, then may Grima—or Naga or whoever—strike me down with lightning!" He waved his hands in the air with a mad motion, only to stop midway and tilt his head to the side. "Actually, d'you think they'd strike me down with lightning  _anyway?_ Should I incite blasphemy to hone my thunder magic? Hey, should I?"

"Can you take something seriously, for  _once_ in your life?" Gaius snapped, feeling only a twinge of guilt when he saw Henry flinch ever so  _slightly_  at his sudden aggression. "Skip the jokes and get to the part where you tell me if you're being serious."

"But I  _was_ being serious! I think it'd be cool if the Gods really did strike me down like that." He held his hands behind his back, and stuck his feet out as he tried to balance on a particularly large rock. Then he spoke. "I wasn't lying, though. I really can see just fine with my eyes closed. But everything's all monochrome, y'know? I can only see colors if my eyes are open."

"Then why do you bother keeping them closed? Is it magic or something?"

"Yup, magic! This one is a spell I learned a  _long_ time ago. And it's helpful, because I don't have to keep my eyes open if I wanna see something."

"Well, what happens when you wanna go to sleep? Does your vision black out or can you still see?" Gaius asked, waving a hand in front of Henry's face to test his claims. Henry reached out and stayed Gaius' hand with a sly movement, smiling widely as he did so. Gaius let out a low whistle, obviously impressed by the display. "Jeez, you weren't kiddin' about seeing just fine. But the question still stands, Junior."

"If I wanna go to sleep, I just cast a sleeping spell! Or I get so tired that I just pass out on the bed anyway, whichever comes first~"

"Well, maybe you could keep your eyes open more often? I mean, if you could see colors when they're closed then that wouldn't be a problem, but it ain't fun just looking at monochrome shades all the time, right?" The Ylissean's eyebrow quirked up, and he gave the Plegian a knowing stare.

"You might just forget how to open your eyes at this rate."

"Silly, you've  _seen_ my eyes before. I can't forget to do something as basic as open them!" Henry laughed to himself, then slowly opened his left eye to reveal its color to Gaius, as if making a point.

He gawked, because the hue changed from the last time he saw it. Last time, Henry's eyes were as indigo as his robes and as royal as the silk on his body—this time, however, they were a brighter shade of sky blue, twinkling and resonating in tandem with the clear atmosphere above them.

"Whoa," he said. "They've changed?"

"Yup! I've concocted a bunch of weird stuff in my free time and I study black magic daily, so it's not hard to cast spells as simple as this," Henry hummed, drumming his fingers alongside his cheek as he did so. "Now it's my turn to ask  _you_ something!"

"Go ahead," Gaius agreed. "Remember the rule, though. Make it worthwhile."

"I know~ Okay, how about this? What's the deal with you and Maribelle?"

"Me and Twinkles? There isn't anything—"

"—Aw, don't be shy about it!" Henry cut him off with a forceful cheer. "I don't need to see colors to see the tension between you two! It's as real as the Risen!" he smiled crookedly again, trembling in bouts of broken laughter. "Did you break her heart or something? I didn't peg you to be that kinda guy, Honeybuns!"

Gaius blanched at the thought of it. "As if," he said. "Twinkles and I know each other...from  _before_ the war, let's say."

"Ooh, scandalous!" despite saying this, Henry appeared less interested than usual. He started picking at a loose thread in his ensemble as a result of such a change. "So, you broke her heart  _before_ the war started. That's kind of mean of you."

"You've got the wrong idea," Gaius said. "I guess I'll let you know, then. Robin already knows about it, so I don't mind." He glanced between Henry and the crows that were still gathered around him, cawing softly as they hopped from place to place. Watching their behavior eased his nerves somewhat, and he took a sharp inhale before continuing.

"Back in the day, when I was just doing any old job to keep myself afloat, I got mixed up with this crew. They wanted to steal from the treasury. It wasn't such a big deal to me back then, so I agreed. But then they turned it all around on me, see. They said they would kill the duke's daughter if I didn't go along with their plan. That really sucked and killing was just  _not_ part of the deal." A break in the story, and olive-green eyes lost themselves in the cloud of reminiscence. They didn't return to reality or to clarity until moments afterward.

"The worst part is that the mastermind behind the whole scheme wasn't some lowlife like me. It was another noble like Twinkles. And I didn't even know her back then, but she didn't deserve to die at all. So I accused her father of the whole heist, and got him into a lot of trouble. They didn't hang him or anything, but Twinkles still hates my guts for it."

"Why?" Henry simply asked. "I don't really get it myself, but shouldn't she be happy that her father survived, anyway? Or that you saved her life to begin with? People like it when they don't have to die or suffer, right? So everything should work out since you've told her this already!"

"That's the thing," Gaius said sheepishly. "I haven't...actually told her the whole story yet…"

"Oh, well you should probably let her know soon!" Henry advised, voice fluctuating to playful lilts. "Did the enemies curse you with a forgetfulness spell or something? It's a pretty big thing to miss!"

"I haven't told her on  _purpose_ ," Gaius emphasized. "I haven't gotten a chance to talk privately with her. I mean, she avoids me whenever she sees me. The only time she didn't was back in that cave, so…"

"Hmm~ That's really interesting, though! Too bad she hates you!" Henry laughed and laughed again, his tone of voice matching the crows' caws. For a second, it seemed as if the sorcerer would turn into a crow himself, and take to the skies with inky feathers and shadowy shapes.

Gaius banished the silly thought from his mind and resumed speaking. "Well, I'll get to her, eventually. Maybe while we're heading up north to relocate our camp I can tell her."

"Maybe," Henry agreed. "If it doesn't work out, I can help you! I've got a couple of curses that could fix the situation. A curse that could make Maribelle obedient, for one. Or a curse that could make her deaf to all noise except your voice, so she wouldn't have a choice but to listen to you from that point on! Or maybe…"

"...That's not necessary," Gaius insisted. "No, there's no point talking to her about it if it's not on my terms. No tricks or anything, I've just gotta be honest with her."

"That sounds like a pain," Henry said. "And I don't like pain."

Gaius sighed, and tilted his head back to view the sky above them. It was as blue as Henry's ever-changing eyes happened to be in that short moment. It was as blue as the clearest water in the world, and as blue as the stars that sparkled like diamonds in the dawn sky.

It was such a pretty, pretty color. It was nothing like the reds and pinks that Gaius had gotten used to seeing, or the white-black-purples of Henry's visage that were also becoming a familiar sight to him. No, blue was a safe, good color, and Gaius wished he could have more of it.

"Yeah," he finally said to Henry. "Yeah, I don't like pain, either."

…

"Okay, Honeybuns. New question! How straight are you?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, you like girls, right? Or maybe you don't like girls, or maybe you don't like people in general? Tell me!"

"Jeez, I was wonderin' when you'd finally crack and ask me about  _that._ Well, lemme tell you one thing. Love is love, right? It doesn't matter too much who it's with and all…"

"...Um, okay. So what's your point?"

"My point is that I'm open to anyone. Men, women, neither...whatever, I don't care."

"You don't? So you'll even date someone like Nowi or Tiki, who look young and pretty but are actually old, nasty women deep down inside?"

"Please, Tiki's more my age, but Nowi's still a damn kid. But yeah, I don't care that they're dragons or whatever. Panne, too. It doesn't matter to me that they're beasts."

"Y'know, since you're kinda  _dumb_ I didn't think you'd be so open-minded about these things."

"I'm gonna pretend that you didn't say that for your sake, not mine."

"Yeah, well, I'm serious! You always pegged me as one of those guys that just go around and ogle women all day! Nice to know that you're not as brainless as the Risen then, hehe."

"Tch. You gotta have more faith in me than  _that,_ Junior!"

"Just by talking to you is a show of my faith."

"Ouch."

…

"What about you, Junior?"

"What  _about_  me?"

"How do you feel about romance and stuff like that?"

"Oh, I guess I'm like you, Honeybuns! I don't really care! Humans are weird enough, though. I get along with animals better."

"But...humans  _are_ animals."

A wide smile appeared on his face, and he cackled.

"Exactly!"

…

They talked more and more. It wasn't so farfetched to think that they were making up for lost time. All those days spent hating each other, fighting each other, and avoiding each other seemed so long ago, and yet they weren't that far away in reality. Those were times where they didn't know anything about each other beyond the violence of the warfront—those were times where they didn't even  _care_ to know more.

Now was different, however. Now they had the remnants of a friendship under their feet. Now they had the makings of a real, stable relationship.

Henry smiled at the thought of it all. "We're done now, yeah? That was so boring...maybe I should have opened one of those boxes to summon Risen instead?"

"If you do that, I'll beat you before the Risen do," Gaius threatened seroiusly, making it clear that he did not want to engage in combat anytime soon. "But we're done. Let's report back to Frederick or whoever wants to know."

"Okay," Henry agreed. He bounced alongside Gaius' steady pace, a row of blackbirds still following after him. One of them took to pecking at Gaius' heels, and Henry simply cackled in response to Gaius' exasperated yells. "Aw, she likes you!"

"Well, I don't like her or any of these damned birds of yours!" Gaius said, shaking his feet in an attempt to shove the offending crows away. "Tell your friends to get lost before I make 'em into tonight's dinner!"

"If you lay a hand on them, I'll probably have to kill you." The words lacked their usual jovial tone, and the sedate smile on Henry's face didn't help to lessen their sharp threat.

Gaius balked. "I was  _kidding,_  Junior. For Gods' sake, I'm not actually gonna hurt them…'sides, we've got enough food that we don't need bird carcasses to restock the pantry." He stared down at the other, searching for a semblance of understanding. Finding none, Gaius quickly added on: "Take it easy, alright?"

"Oh, you were kidding? That wasn't a funny joke though!" He pointed this out, as if his own macabre lines weren't any less humorous. "Although I said I'd  _probably_ have to kill you, not that I would do it for sure."

"Yeah, because  _that_ would make me feel better."

"Hmm~ But don't you know? Killing you is out of the question now!" Henry perked up visibly, the smile on his face remaining the same but something about his overall disposition gave off the sensation of  _happiness._ "We're friends! I would never kill a friend! Actually, if anything happened to you, Gaius, I'd probably cast a bloody curse on whoever did it, and kill every single person in their family afterwards!"

"Talk about overkill!" Gaius exclaimed. "Seriously, though, you don't have to go through that much trouble over me. Sure, we can call each other friends now, but isn't that unnecessary for something as simple as friendship? It's not like we're…"

The words died on his tongue. He fumbled over what he had meant to say.  _It's not like we're...what? Lovers? Boyfriends? A married couple?_ The fact that his mind had wandered over to those affectionate titles as possibilities for the end of his sentence left him speechless. When had he been able to so easily regard Henry in that manner? How was it possible that he was regarding Henry at all, in a positive light such as this?

Wasn't it not too long ago that they were at each other's throats? What changed since then?

Maybe it was Henry that changed. He seemed to catch onto Gaius' sentiments entirely, and he left no room for mercy as he spoke. "Haha~ You suddenly stopped talking, Honeybuns! Risen got your tongue?"

"I—"

"—You were gonna say that we're just friends, right? It's not like we're  _lovers_ or anything."

The word  _lovers_ as spoken by Henry didn't have the same ring to it when everyone else had said it. There was no affection—not even the joking kind—to be found in his voice. There was no sweetness, pleasure, or even  _joy_ when he said the word.

There was only malice. Malice and baseless logic, the opposite of the fervent emotions that people usually used when referring to someone as their lover.

There was only  _malice._

"Well, yeah. Only people in love care about each other that much, right? Or people who consider each other family, or people who  _are_ family…those are the people that say stuff like ' _I'd kill for you'_ and whatnot." Gaius thought about Chrom and Lissa in this moment, and the love they surely shared between them and their older sister, Emmeryn. Would Chrom kill for his sisters? ( _He already did,_ a voice inside Gaius said.) Would Lissa and Emmeryn kill for Chrom?

He found his answer sooner than he'd like. Of course, people with a bond that deep would certainly go to drastic measures for each other. It only made sense if the relationship was as strong and sacred as it appeared to be. No one would kill for strangers, or worse off enemies. No one would go to that level.

...No one but  _Henry,_ it seemed. Henry, who was barely a friend and not even close to the other words ( _Lover boyfriend husband)_ already regarded his relationship with Gaius as one that warranted murder and death, should anyone try to break it. But wasn't that just how he was? Unstable, insatiable, surprisingly reliable Henry—wasn't he always on about bloodlust, misfortune, and death? For him to propose himself as a means to others' ends in the name of Gaius' love was nothing short of  _strange._ But it might have been expected, all the same.

"And I don't know if we have that kind of relationship, Junior."

"No, we definitely don't." Henry—who was just swaying back and forth on his feet now—stopped moving entirely and remained still. Gaius' breath hitched in his throat as he awaited for a further explanation.

Henry gave it all too easily. "We don't have that kind of relationship, Gaius."

Gaius, too, temporarily dropped the nickname. "Then why'd you bring it up, Henry?"

"We don't have that kind of relationship," Henry simply repeated himself. "But I wouldn't mind if we did."

"Wh—"

"—Lovers, boyfriends, whatever. I might not mind it so much."

They stared at each other. For the second time during their patrol, Henry allowed his eyes to be open, and Gaius watched with deep curiosity as the color of his irises shifted from sky blue to indigo. He watched as the sea of Henry's soul ( _That's what the eyes are, right? Windows to the soul and whatever?)_ shifted on ever-changing waves, moving back and forth in a tumultuous uncertainty.

Gaius watched and let his own eyes—that which was the grounded earth and grass below them—stay affixed in that oceanic gaze. He let the deep-rooted earth, sturdy and steadfast like him, remain unmoving as the waves washed over him.

No one said anything else. And there was a wordless agreement to leave this matter to be sorted out for another day, as the sorcerer and assassin headed back to the base camp without a complaint.

The crows cawed out after them, as if to sing a mourning song in memory of their dead dreams.


	15. News and Nonsense

"—And then I flew in and  _whoosh,_ set them all on fire!" Nowi flapped her human arms into the air, then blew raspberries to emulate her breath in dragon form. She giggled wildly, then yelled out: "It was  _so_ awesome! You should have been there, Ricken!"

"I was busy recovering though," he told her. "Although by the sounds of it, you took care of those Risen without a problem!"

"Yeah, well it was  _easy._ Plus, Robin was there, and so was Gregor, Panne, Vaike, and that one guy! Um, I forgot his name, but he was there!" She giggled at this thought, and turned on her heels to look as if that unknown ally would be there at any moment. "It was fun, though."

"Glad to hear it," Ricken agreed. He held a thick book to his chest, with another book floating in the air next to him. Its pages flipped on its own, and the sight of it made him smile.

He really had to thank Miriel for teaching him this spell. It was  _so_ much easier to multitask, now. He scribbled in the margins with a pen, and hummed contently to himself. "Hopefully things will be better up north. And it looks like you, me, and Henry have the first night watch when we stop for a break."

"Yay! Let's go hunting for ghosts!" Nowi's eyes sparkled at this prospect, and she bounded her way over to Henry, who had been lost in thought this entire time. His smile was still plastered on his face, though, and it didn't change even when his arm was nearly ripped out of its socket from the girl's hyper movements.

"Henry, Henry! You wanna go ghost hunting with us during tonight's patrol?"

"T-There's no such thing as ghosts!" Ricken interjected. "Nowi, don't say weird things!"

"Eeeeh? But ghosts  _are_ real!" She pouted, and looked between the sorcerer and the sage with a troubled look. "Right, Henry? Ghosts are so totally real!"

"She's right, Ricken!" Henry piped up, laughing at the sour expression that crossed the other boy's face. "I'm constantly being haunted by the souls of the dearly departed, so I know this for a fact!"

"You guys are the worst," Ricken muttered. "I knew I should have stayed with Miriel and Tharja in their convoy wagon…"

As he spoke, their pace came to a lurching halt as the marching soldiers ahead of them suddenly stopped. On the dirt roads that served as their guide to the relocation camp up north, it seemed that the space was wide enough for the wagons to pull over to the side. A break was in order, or so it seemed.

Frederick trotted down the road on his armored horse, shouting the orders into existence for all the Shepherds to hear: "We are setting up camp for the night! The first patrol may take their rounds within the first hour! Unless you are a healer, please do  _not_  loiter near the medical wagons! Thank you!" He left as soon as he came, kicking up tiny clouds of dirt in his wake as he did so.

Henry sighed, and stretched his arms out. He wasn't going to complain in the slightest. Moving camp was always such a long and cumbersome process, and it didn't help that infantry units like him were forced to make the trek on foot. He half-wished that he took up the path of becoming a dark knight, instead, because at the very least he would have a horse that could do all the walking for him.

But that wasn't the case, so he simply settled for taking a seat on a fallen log off the side of the road. He watched as the numerous wagons veered off the path, and a few campfires were kindled within minutes of the Shepherds settling into their break. It was always like this, though. Robin planned things out thoroughly, and this reprieve was surely a strategic move on their part.

After all, despite the numerous convoy wagons and dozens of soldiers marching, not all of the Shepherds were present. To put all their eggs in one basket—that is, to travel all at once—was not only silly, but impossible. So Robin scheduled their camp relocation cleverly, separating their forces into three different parties that would travel up north at three different times. Henry was lucky (or unlucky, he couldn't quite tell!) to be part of the initial group, those that would make the first tracks into the journey and be the example for the other two groups to follow.

The last group was the one stationed at their southern base. They would be the ones to hold down the fort until the second group arrived at their destination ahead of them, and then they would pack up shop completely to join them, too. Some of the most tedious parts of warfare, Henry decided, were all the things it took to get moving from one location to another. He wished that he could permanently stay in one place, but a soldier was constantly stationed wherever they were most useful. In Henry's case, he supposed his use was being one little gear in the big Shepherd machine—even though a single page of his dark spell could bring all the rest of them to their knees.

He giggled to himself as things settled down, and watched as the night quickly grew on them, turning their world into a pitch blackness that was only remedied by the light of the campfires burning softly. He waited for Ricken and Nowi to join him, so the three of them may initiate the first night watch of many.

All the while, he didn't even  _try_ to mask his curiosity. Gaius, of course, also happened to be in this initial group, but he was assigned to another patrol with Tharja and Libra, who would be taking night watch right after Nowi's group. Henry watched the three of them as they awkwardly convened around one of the fires, sitting on rocks and tree stumps as they muttered incomprehensible words to one another.

In that moment, Henry noticed Gaius' eyes wander, and land on Henry's figure that was only a few mere yards away. While Gaius couldn't see Henry that well from where he was, Henry was lucky that the fire cast a warm glow on the assassin, and that he could ogle at him all he liked without the other knowing.

(But that hard stare in Gaius' green eyes signified something. He  _knew_ he was being watched, and by Henry, no less. He knew.)

Henry didn't say anything. He didn't even call out to Gaius as he normally would in a situation such as this. He just kept his eyes in his general direction, and let his lips curl up into one of those fake smiles like he always did.

"Henry?"

The one to break him out of his temporary stupor was none other than Ricken, who was taller than Henry only because he was standing while the other was seated on the log. Nevertheless, he grinned widely at him, and practically sang in his face.

"What's up, Ricken? Ready to start the  _boring_ patrol?"

"Yeah, I'm just waiting for Nowi," he said, picking at a stray thread in his sage robes. His hat was oddly askew, but Henry didn't have the desire to fix it, for once.

Ricken continued, anyway. "But, I wanted to ask something...are you alright, Henry?"

"Actually, I'm all left!" Henry stretched his left arm as high as it would go, and he laughed when the other groaned exasperatedly. "I'm  _fine,_ Ricken. Why so worried? The only thing we've been doing all day is marching on these dirt paths!"

"I know, but I was just worried because I care about you. You're my  _friend,_ y'know? And you can tell me anything, except you usually  _don't._ So I have a right to worry about you!" His voice wasn't condescending in the least, but entirely annoyed as he reached down to poke Henry in the forehead. The sorcerer gasped dramatically, and fell backwards as he pretended to be dead from the mere touch.

Ricken yelped. "H-Henry! Don't do that!"

"Sorry!" he called out, not sounding apologetic in the least. "But you've found my weakness...now I have no choice but to die a swift, painless death…"

"Ugh," Ricken groaned again. "You're impossible, sometimes."

"Hey, you two!" Nowi yelled loudly, and skipped her way over to them with a gleeful step. "Sorry about that! I was asking Frederick something, but it's all good now."

"Good, then we can start the night watch patrol." Ricken nodded, and ushered Henry up from his seat on the log. The Plegian whined halfheartedly, but ultimately gave in as he sprung up to his feet without further complaint.

He looked at his compatriots. "Are we actually supposed to go around and check the area? Or can we stay here and pretend to be awake when we can actually just sleep?"

"Sadly, I think they actually want us to check the area, Henry. We'll do a quick run through the woods and back, then guard the convoy wagons, okay?" Ricken turned his gaze to Nowi, who seemed to light up at the mere sight of him. "That works for you, too, right?"

"Yup yup! No objections here!" She smiled widely, and swayed back and forth on her heels in the most childish manner. "Okay, so let's head into the woods and come back here. And get rid of any Risen or spies that we see along the way. I'll turn into a dragon and go on a rampage!"

"M-Maybe don't go on that rampage," Ricken advised. "If you just fight normally, that should be fine, though."

"Got it!" Nowi was the first of the trio to head into the nearby forest, walking clearly and easily without any fear of being ambushed. Ricken, worried about her headstrong attitude and apparent fearlessness, followed after her with a concerned shout or two.

Henry lagged behind all three of them, mind still straying from the task at hand. He really didn't like all these silly chores, even if they  _were_ numbingly easy to perform. Even if he was loyal and diligent to a fault, there were some things in the world that he just had no desire of doing. Doing the night patrol with two of his better allies was one of them, although the notion of "ghost-hunting" that Nowi brought up was more interesting than anything else that happened that day.

So, it wasn't surprising that Henry didn't exactly do his fair share of work. Rather, he walked into the nearby forest after the other two, only to take another path than theirs and start exploring the foliage himself. In the morning, the Shepherds would be moving again, and he would have no time to check his surroundings for things that could prove themselves useful. A dead animal to be a curse's sacrifice, for one. A secret hot springs that Henry could indulge himself in privately, for another.

Things that might not come to life if he didn't take this time in his patrol to be loitering around, instead. He crossed more paths, ran through the dirt, and stayed by the glittering stream of water that gave life to the forest's inhabitants. Henry spotted a deer, bent down to take a drink from the fast running current. At Henry's presence, however, the deer became alert and stared at him with a distant yet determined stare.

He barely moved his right arm when the animal ran away, prancing through the thickets without so much as a protest. He sighed, and accepted his fate as he plopped down by the river, and let his feet soak in the water for an indefinite amount of time.

He was tired, tired,  _tired._ They had all been walking endlessly throughout the day, and when their progress halted at night he could feel the repercussions of his exercise. His chest rattled with each short breath he inhaled, and his eyes would have shut close if they were open to begin with. There was a hesitance in his movements, a groggy step in his feet that threatened to break into full slumber if he wasn't careful.

Henry laid down by the riverside, kicked his feet out of the water, and dried them off on a nearby rock. Then he let his arms spread out from his sides, and he let the cloak of his outfit fan out like wings below him. Slowly, but surely, he opened his eyes, and stared at the dark blue sky above him—that which sparkled with a small scattered of stars across the surface, and that which was partially blocked out by the treetops surrounding him.

It was a beautiful sight. He imagined that he could enjoy it alone, without the company of his fellow night patrol members, or any of the other Shepherds, for that matter.

The illusion was broken when Gaius' voice pierced the air. "Shouldn't you be checking the perimeter right now?"

"Shouldn't you be sleeping until it's your guys' turn to take night watch?"

"Yes, but there's no crime against me taking a stroll until that time comes. You probably shouldn't slack off work, Junior. Getting lazy's not an option for us."

"I'm not slacking off. I'm thinking about how to curse you," he said half-jokingly, the smile on his face bleeding into his voice. Only a few drops made their way in, but it was obvious to tell that there was  _some amusement_ present in Henry's antics just now. "I was thinking if I could master that one spell that lets me become a crow permanently, then I'd really like that."

" _I_  wouldn't like that," Gaius countered. "If you become a crow, there's no way to tell you apart from the rest of them. You won't be unique, y'know?"

"Crows don't all look the same," Henry insisted. "And I don't think I'd lose my novelty if I turned into a crow. Y'know, I think I remember someone pulling that spell off before. So with enough practice—"

"—You're exhausting, you know that?" The assassin sighed, and walked over to the sorcerer with a begrudging step. "Exhausting and downright creepy sometimes. There's something not right about shifting from one thing to another."

Henry glanced upward at Gaius, eyes fluttering open just enough to reveal slivers of purple beneath the lids. He smiled at him.

"Now you suddenly hate shape-shifters, huh? I thought you said you didn't mind the manaketes or the taguel. Were you  _lying,_ Honeybuns?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Gaius snapped, looking twice as annoyed as he did before. Despite his grievances, he kept approaching Henry, and even lied down on the grass beside him so they were both looking up at the same infinite space above.

For a short moment, everything was quiet. All they could hear were the insects chirping, and the rushing water of the river beside them. An occasional owl hooted, or a faraway howl of a wolf resounded, too. But other than that, there were no other distractions to this intimate moment of theirs.

It was such an intimate moment that it made Henry feel like he and Gaius were the only two people left in the world. It made him think that in this split second in time, nothing else in the universe existed except for the two of them. They were a clockwork mechanism, unknowingly, as their chests synchronized rise-and-fall breaths, and their eyes flickered over the view of the stars in the same awed movements. Even their limbs were spread out similarly, taking up space beside them as they enveloped the forest in all its natural beauty, becoming one with the earth and grass beneath them.

It was a nice feeling.

Henry liked the dark colors surrounding him. He didn't want to close his eyes for once. And he knew Gaius couldn't really see him from the dim lighting, anyway, so he didn't feel self-conscious if the other tried to steal a glance now and then.

He liked it.

"So what did you mean, then?" Henry asked in an utterly calm and even voice. "You don't like things that shift from one to another? Hmm~ That doesn't make too much sense, honestly!"

"I mean, I don't like the idea of hiding behind something else." Gaius stretched his left arm—effectively breaking apart their synchronized movements—high into the air, and clenched his fists open and closed as if he was trying to grasp one of the stars in the sky. He repeated this motion several times before speaking again.

"You should face things head on."

"That doesn't mean a lot, coming from  _you_ ," Henry scolded. "Assassins always do things from the shadows, right? They're always hiding!"

"Sure, but that's considering work. When it comes to outside of business, that's when stuff like that really matters." His voice was as distant and thin as the clouds above them, and he stared at the gray wisps for quite some time.

When Gaius spoke again, he did so after watching the cloud dissipate into the night air. "I don't want you to disappear, Henry."

"That's silly," Henry insisted. "It's a war we're fighting in, Gaius. We're all disappearing bit by bit, or something like that. Either we get reduced to little fleshy bits, or we reduce other guys to little fleshy bits, or better yet—both! You're saying things that I don't really understand."

"..."

"Whoops, did I accidentally put a silencing curse on you? I swear I'll take it off by the morning!"

"Do you think about things before you say them? Or do you just say them without thinking?"

"I say whatever I want to, silly."

"Figures. I don't know if I'll ever be able to understand you, Junior."

Silence passed by again, and this time a light breeze picked up where their conversation had dropped. The wind tousled Henry's hair, ruffled his clothes, and loosened the golden hair clip that was nestled on the side of his head. He reached his right hand upward to press it back down, then sunk even deeper into his robes and the ground below him.

He thought carefully about what he wanted to say, and his grin became wider when he found the right words, for once. "I was also thinking about some more magic earlier. I even know a curse that will let me switch bodies with someone."

Gaius became visibly interested as his body shifted slightly. His voice was quieter than usual, but not different otherwise. "No kidding?"

"Yeah, I used it on Sumia once because she wanted to be able to cast black magic. And it was good for me, too, because it let me ride on her pegasus!"

"Wouldn't that be tricky, though? What if you got stuck in her body, or something?"

"No, that would never happen because curses aren't permanent, you know. The body-switching one has a time limit at some point...and even then, if you get injured or killed during that time, it's the original body that will receive the pain! Haha!"

"...That's…"

"So, do  _you_ wanna switch bodies for a bit?"

" _What?"_ To this proposition, Gaius sat just a bit further up, and stared down at Henry with the most incredulous expression possible.

"I mean, you always say things like you can't understand me or whatever, and you're always asking me why I am the way I am…" Henry sat up, as well, and looked back at Gaius with an open-eyed stare of his own.

He didn't falter in the slightest. "...So instead of asking questions, you could find out for yourself."

"...By switching bodies with you?"

"Mmhmm! It's a quick and easy process, and surprisingly painless! You won't feel a thing, except you might be a bit confused at first~"

"No," Gaius quickly cut in. "I refuse."

"Oh? Why?" Henry tilted his head ever so slightly, letting the weight of it fall into his shoulder as he sighed out. "That would clear up all the confusion, right?"

"It might," Gaius agreed. "But that takes out all the fun of it."

"The fun of what?"

"It takes out all the fun in trying to get to know you. I mean, obviously there are things you don't wanna tell me, and that's fine because I ain't giving you my life story, either. Not all of it, at least."

"Then—"

"—But if you just suddenly figure everything out, there'd be no point in trying anything, right? All the stuff we went through before would be for nothing. A clean slate isn't clean if nobody tries to dirty it in the first place."

"..."

"Anyway, I should get going." He stood to his feet, and brushed the grass off from his clothes. His eyes remained locked on Henry's currently-violet eyes, though. And for some reason, the usual dark green gaze appeared ten times as more invasive, and Henry felt exposed all the while he stared.

His heart started beating faster, and he desperately hoped that Gaius couldn't hear it.

"Stop fooling around here and get back to Ricken and Nowi, already. I'll see you around, Junior."

Gaius walked away—another shadow in the endless night that appeared and disappeared before Henry all at once. And as his figure faded away entirely behind the trees up ahead, Henry couldn't help but feel strange. His hold on emotions (and his understanding of them, subsequently) was subpar at best, and he couldn't name the reasons why his body started acting out of order. His quickened heart rate, sweaty palms, and flushed face were certainly side effects of a curse placed on him by an enemy sorcerer, or the symptoms of a sickness that claimed him all the same.

If they were caused by something else, he wouldn't know what that something else  _was._ In another life, at another time, he might call it  _love._ But his current state said otherwise. The other words that came to mind in light of this situation were: desperation, obsession, confusion, manipulation, trickery, anything but  _love._ Although Henry had a basic understanding of some things, matters of the heart (his blackened heart, or his pure heart? Or a heart all the same) were lost on him. He didn't know why he constantly thought about Gaius, or why his head was full of repetitions of the man's name and repeated images of his face, but he would never expect the answer to be so  _simple_ and yet so  _complicated_ all at once.

The past seemed so far away, he couldn't even remember how he used to treat him. Their slate had been cleaned once more and everything started over, yet it felt like he was thrown right into the middle of a game without learning the rules first. It felt like he was halfway through a ritual or a summoning and now he had to carry out the rest of the ceremony on the spot. It felt strange, out of place, and unreasonable all at once.

And the worst part was that Henry couldn't tell if he liked that a lot, or not at all. But if the smile creeping on his face was any indication of it, then he  _definitely_ liked it. Whatever game Gaius just started, and whatever spell he unknowingly casted on him—Henry decided that he liked it a lot.

In fact, he loved it.

And he felt almost no shame in admitting it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far! I appreciate it so, so much!


	16. Obsessions and Obstructions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Please note that this chapter has mentions of ill-advised drug use and its side effects, so tread carefully if that's a touchy subject for you! I based it off my own experience with morphine during a hospital episode in my life, but I have amplified its effects accordingly. 
> 
> Remember that vague interest Henry once had in painkillers? Remember? Well, you will soon enough!
> 
> All that being said, please enjoy this double update! Thanks for being patient with me, too!

Days later and the first group to relocate camp up north arrived at their destination. They began the process of settling in without any mishaps. Tents were pitched, latrines were dug out, and steeds were tended to. Scouts went out to verify their location and to map out any inconsistencies with Robin's maps, while Frederick took charge of the group and delegated different tasks to different people.

Henry found himself assigned to convoy-sorting duty. He had half the nerve to protest, but then Frederick mentioned that Libra was having troubles handling the medical supplies by himself, which caused Henry to have a very good yet a very bad idea. Smile placed on as always, voice bright and chipper to fake degrees, and arms moving in friendly but oddly placed angles—Henry chirped like a bird.

"I'd  _love_ to help Libra out~ Where is he, anyway? Did he get killed off while we were walking up here, or what?"

"Refrain from making baseless comments such as those," Frederick retorted. "If any tragedy befell a member of the Shepherds, I would let it be known posthaste. Additionally, if Libra was actually dead, then instead I would be telling you to gather white lilies, and let the others know that they ought to help prepare the death ceremony that Libra has requested."

"Oh, right, funeral preparations and everything~ How tedious." Henry laughed as he relished the look on Frederick's face. It was one of his better scowls, surely! "You were the one that managed all of it, right? Do you still remember  _my_ death preparations?"

"Yes, sadly. You requested that your body be set aflame with dark magic, or anything bearing resemblance to black flames. Then you asked for the body to be left for the crows as they feast upon. And then you suggested that a day  _after_ the birds have feasted on your flesh, that we take your bones, crush them to ash, and spread them at sea." He appeared only mildly disgusted at the perfect recital of the knowledge he already knew. Part of it was because of the war they were in. With death coming at them left and right, it was only natural to discuss funeral arrangements in the unfortunate (and common) case that a soldier died.

Death and life were sacred things, so people could request anything in that case. Henry's funeral arrangements, however, were completely wild and outlandish. Even more so than Tharja, who shared her Plegian ancestry with Henry, but didn't have half of the grandeur that his plans had. She requested something small, intimate, and flowered-filled. She also asked for people (especially Robin, but that much was a given with her) to say nice things about her as they gathered 'round her body.

"Or what's left of it, anyway," she added on during the arrangement meeting. Frederick conveniently ignored that comment.

But the point was that even  _Tharja_  had a tame idea of a funeral! So for Henry's ideas to be so fanatic and far-reaching was not only exasperating, but almost  _impressive_ in terms of creativity. Frederick would not concede to this, however, and he kept his face as stony as possible to reinforce his disappointment in the idea.

Henry cackled. "Don't you think normal funerals are too boring? At least mine has the nerve to be  _creative!_ But if Libra isn't dead, then where is he?"

"If you are serious about it, then we will adhere to your wishes in the unfortunate case that you were to fall in the midst of battle or otherwise," Frederick noted. "But I dislike jokes on the matter of something as precious as life and death, which is why I showed distaste for your comments in the first place."

"Uh-huh, sure. So  _where's_ Libra? And where are the new medic tents, for that matter?"

"They are situated near the mess hall, to the south of it. Libra should be inside the very first tent on the left."

"Thanks, Freddy~" Henry became amused at the idea of Gaius' nickname for him, and laughed at the confused expression on Frederick's face. "See you around, maybe!"

With that, the sorcerer skipped away from the great knight, and retained his usually wide and plastic smile on his face for all the onlookers to see. He had a date with a monk, after all, and the very thought of it excited him to the point where he didn't care about the judgement of others.

Not that he particularly cared for their judgemental thoughts either way, but still!

He had plans formulating in the chasms of his mind, and with any luck he would see them come into fruition sooner than he'd ever imagine. Yes, the very thought of those sedatives flooding his bloodstream with their numbing goodness was exciting in and of itself. The idea that Henry could finally, finally,  _finally_ escape pain was entirely liberating and thrilling. All the confusion that his body and his mind have been having—the pains in his chest, stomach, heart, and everywhere else—would finally be erased.

Thinking all of this and more resulted in manic glee flying off of Henry's person, like electric shocks flying out the pages of an Elthunder. And he left behind nothing but smoke and cinders in his wake, with his cloak trailing after him like a lofty shadow of disappointment.

.

.

.

Henry arrived at Libra's tent without a hitch. Parked behind the tent was one of the convoy wagons, and it was attached to the back of the tent where the flaps lifted up, and one could easily move cargo from the wagon space to the shelves inside. This sight greeted Henry, along with that view of Libra's backside as he moved boxes here and there. He moved with such precision and dedication that he remained completely focused, unseeing of Henry until the sorcerer finally called out to him.

"Hey Libra!" he shouted. "I've been assigned to help you clear out the convoy~ What do you need me to do first?"

Libra turned around, and looked quite surprised to see Henry there. Once the initial shock wore off, however, he regained his usually cool exterior, and gave a tiny smile in Henry's direction.

(He almost matched Henry for how  _fake_ he could make a smile look.)

"Henry," he greeted him softly. "Good to see you. I thank you for taking the time to help me, I know it must be tiresome for you."

"How could I be tired when Robin hasn't let me do anything fun since the incident?" his tone of voice was very joking and cordial, indeed, but like most everything Henry said, there was something sinister and  _misaligned_ lurking beneath it. It felt off in every way, but he continued speaking in such a manner.

"But sorting things can be fun! I'm actually good at organization, kind of."

"That's good to hear, at least." Libra sighed as he pointed to some more boxes and baskets, those that were filled to the brim with various bottles of medicine and other supplies. "If you wouldn't mind helping me unpack these, then. If you find anything broken, just leave it there and I'll take care of it."

"Roger that!"

He sprung to action almost immediately. He moved thoughtlessly as he ripped boxes open, tore open basket covers and linings, and grabbed things out from inside. His darkened hands trembled with excitement, and didn't let up at all even when he read various labels and found nothing worth his while. Sure, there were sleeping tonics and stomach aids, not to mention fever patches and vulnerary bottles, but nothing that vaguely resembled a  _sedative._ Or at least, nothing that looked like whatever a sedative looked like. Because the first time Henry encountered that drug was when he was beaten sorely and out of his wits, and for him to remember what they were called—let alone what they might have  _looked like_ —was a miracle just by itself.

All he knew was that he would find a description on the label, one that would say something like  _gets rid of all the ouchies_ or  _makes that evil pain finally stop for once in your wretched life._ Or at least, something filled with medical jargon that he could read out to be an ender of pain.

"A killer of pain," he whispered to himself. "If pain is a person, then that medicine is its poison. Pain poison? Pain be-gone? Pain...antidote?" He rattled off words from his tongue, losing himself in not-too-uncommon strings of nonsense. His voice was softer than usual, though, and a bit subdued because part of him was aware of his actions, and that part didn't want Libra to catch onto his plan.

The monk would kick him out if he found out the true reason for his being there. The sorcerer was very, very decided in his decision that he was going to  _steal_ the sedatives from under the medic's nose, and he knew the consequences for something like that, too. Of course, the Shepherds had their fair share of thieves and light-fingered fools alike, but those people usually stole from the treasury or the armory. No one ever thought to steal medicine, mostly because they appreciated its helpfulness, and also because there had never been anything in the history of forever that had stopped pain.

There were magical staves that slowed injuries and erased death, but that did nothing to amend the agony that stayed behind. Henry worked for years to make a curse that dulled one's sense of pain, but it worked as well as other curses in the sense that it nearly killed the recipient, which wasn't exactly the same thing as erasing their pain.

But the solution to Henry's long battle with misery would soon be over. He turned over bottles and bottles of fluids, pills, and other things. He carefully handed Libra several magical staffs imbued with healing magic—those with shiny appearances that undermined the true effects of its work. He even helped unpack several cots and bedding materials. Everything from pillows, arm slings, and even bedpans! All of it got emptied into the tent, and with each diminished box, Henry felt as if he had lost all hope in finding what he wanted.

His luck changed for the better, however, as he found a squat, nondescript box in the very back of the wagon. It was filled with various bottles, plants, and powders, and there were papers on top of them all that were surely for inventory purposes. Henry was thankful that the daylight was bright enough that he could read in the shade of the wagon without breaking through the canvas covering or summoning a fire. He straightened the papers out, and started skimming through its contents.

Eventually, his eyes came upon the important stuff. He read it in broken fragments, mind and eyes skipping over words that were deemed unimportant. All in all, Henry managed to glean:  _Sedatives...dubbed "painkillers" by staff...extracted from morfiend plants...said to numb senses and dull one's perception of pain...numbs everything in general...recommended for surgery and amputation or otherwise severe operations...not to be used as a regular medium of treatment._

Despite reading the papers with utmost accuracy, Henry strained his eyes through the sentences over and over again. His body shook without his permission, and his breath sounded broken underneath his lips. Luckily, Libra was still focused on his task, or he might come over and check on Henry who was certainly taking too much time. But he couldn't help it—not when the thing he used once and fantasized occasionally about since then was right in front of his eyes.

Henry checked over his shoulder, and noticed that Libra was finishing things up on his end. He would come into the wagon to give its contents a once-over, and in doing so he would see the box and the painkillers, and he would take it away at once. There would be no choice, because according to the records the sedatives were  _not_  meant to be in the hands of non-medics. In fact, if people found out that those life-saving, pain-killing drugs were in such near proximity to them, they would riot.

They would take it for themselves, and Henry decided that he wouldn't allow it. If anything,  _he_  had to be the one to take care of it, just so he could protect everyone else from its hazardous effects.

With this (hypocritical) resolve in mind, Henry carefully cut a hole through the wagon's cover, and slipped the box through the opening so he could place it outside the wagon. Libra would never see it there, not when the wagon was parked into his medic's tent and not when he would be too absorbed in the things that were present rather than the things that were absent. If he somehow managed to notice that something was gone, though, Henry had to be quick and smart about hiding it. He had to get out, and fast.

He hopped out of the wagon's interior, and jumped onto the grass that grew in tiny tufts within the tent's interior, instead. Then his feet met the part of the medic's tent that was covered in a cheap, rollout carpet, and he hummed to himself along with the dull beat of his footsteps. Libra noticed him at once, and gave a tiny smile in his direction.

"Thank you for your help, Henry. It's immeasurable in a time like ours, where the war is at its crux. Your efforts are deeply appreciated."

"Libra, there's no need to wax poetic for me. It was no big deal, really!" The words  _I should be the one thanking you_ died on Henry's tongue, and escaped his lips as battered chuckles, at best. He ignored the slight concern growing on Libra's face, and deflected the small suspicions with a smile.

"Is there anything else you need? I hope not, 'cause I've gotta do some sorting out of my own, y'know!"

"...I see," Libra said, the look of concern never quite leaving his eyes. "You're sure that the wagon is empty?"

"Well, I left a few boxes for you, but they're pretty small~ Did you want me to empty those out, too?" Henry tilted his head ever so slightly, eyes opening  _just a sliver_ to reveal an identifiable color behind his snow-colored lashes. Libra's breath hitched at the sight, and Henry continued speaking. "Do you? Do you? Hey, tell me Libra, do you?"

"That's quite alright," he conceded, with a tired tone coloring over his voice. The march must have been hard on everyone, if someone as resolute as Libra could be so exhausted. The thought made Henry feel a slight pang in his chest ( _Guilt? No way!)_ but it disappeared as Libra spoke once more. "No, you've been a great help already. I can handle the rest by myself."

"Okay, if you say so! I'll see you around, Libra!" Henry chortled as he skipped out the tent, dramatically parting the flaps like they were curtains for a show, instead. He called out to the other with fleeting joy.

"...Or not!"

.

.

.

Henry raced for the box of  _painkillers_ that he put out of Libra's sight. He moved as silently as a shadow, because he didn't want to alert the monk of his presence. As soon as the coast was clear, however, he moved with such precision and agility that Gaius might have been proud of him, if he were there.

Of course, that pride would morph into disgust or hatred if he knew what Henry was planning. In fact, Henry hadn't quite factored in Gaius' reaction to this at all, but mostly because he was sure that no one would witness him, so he didn't factor in  _anyone's_ reaction to his thievery to begin with. As mentally unsound and unstable as Henry may be, he wasn't  _stupid_ so he knew how to keep secrets and be sneaky all the same. He wasn't an idiot that let others catch onto things he so dearly wanted to keep hidden. He wasn't as daft as to let them outsmart him on an occasion where he needed all of his quick thinking at once.

Henry knew what he was and wasn't, to some extent, and he wouldn't be told otherwise by people that didn't even  _pretend_ to know him. There were some exceptions to this, of course (Henry's brain screamed multiple names in defiance, names like  _Tharja Ricken Robin Miriel Lissa Maribelle_ with afterthought sentences following that list—things that went along the lines of  _maybe Nowi, maybe Libra, maybe Anna, too!_ Until it finally conceded in that obsessive cacophony that was  _Gaius Gaius Gaius—_ although that bit was nothing new to him.) but for the most part the other Shepherds in the camp were still strangers at worst, acquaintances at best.

They wouldn't care if Henry did something like this, right? They wouldn't mind if they were lower in stock of painkillers than they originally anticipated, right? The lie would work itself out. In case anyone asked Henry where he thinks the medicine might have gone (they really  _wouldn't_ ask him, but just in case!) he would shrug and say that it could have been in another tent, or left behind with one of the two other parties that still had to convene at the new camp location. If the former lie didn't work, then the latter surely would have. This wasn't the first time that the Shepherds had to pack up shop and move, and it  _certainly_ wasn't the first time that they miscounted inventory items, or lost things in between moving from here to there.

It worked out so perfectly, Henry almost felt guilty. But the idea of guilt—along with so many other emotions that Henry couldn't think or know to name—was strange to him. The world was so, so strange, and Henry had a hard time keeping up sometimes. His lack of progress in the real world made him susceptible to getting hurt. When he got hurt, he felt more miserable than usual, and all those ugly, murky feelings and memories would rise to the top of his head—all that hatred and disgust he kept with him all these years would eat him up.

If it took some powder, plants, or painkillers to prevent himself from getting devoured by his own mind, then would anyone blame him? They blamed him for worse things (Being too violent, for one. Being fucking weird, for another.) than that, so surely they could overlook this slight mishap.

Henry's mind thought this all through and yet not at all, the gears of his brain turning at a rapid-fire pace to keep up with the speed of his feet. Once he secured the goods, he ran as far away from Libra's tent as he could. He stayed off the main roads and pathways of the camp, opting to use the cover of shadows and the shapes of the tents to keep his appearance hidden. He moved and leaped with such grace and speed that Gaius would be  _really_ proud of him at this point, and he almost wanted to seek out the assassin in an attempt to see that praise for himself.

The image of Gaius frowning at him, however, with something more than just disappointment in his eyes was  _not_ desirable. The look of purity and righteousness in someone that claimed to have neither would be overwhelming. The sound of his sharp breaths and angry huffs would be like screaming to Henry's ears, and he already had enough ringing noises to keep him annoyed—he didn't need the screams to add onto it, either.

Henry decided that Gaius was the last person that needed to see him right now, because he couldn't stomach the decisive disgust and anger that was sure to manifest within him once he saw what Henry was doing. He thought this to himself before, and he was completely sure of it now. He had to avoid Gaius all the while he was doing this.

He had to.

It was for both their sakes, really. Gaius didn't need someone like Henry. He didn't even understand him, after all! He called Henry difficult to deal with, nearly  _impossible_ at times. Although he once said that the mystery was part of the fun, Henry liked  _knowing things_. He liked being sure of himself, because there was a time in the past when he was so lost that he didn't think he'd ever be found again. And while the mystery of their relationship  _was_ fun to guess at, he didn't like the suspense it held. Henry didn't look it, but he was quite the impatient fellow.

He couldn't just  _wait_  for Gaius to unravel him. He wasn't even sure if that's what he wanted, in the first place. There were so many ugly things inside of him, after all. Besides his pure heart and bright soul, his mind was a muddy swamp with grosser things lurking in the depths. His thoughts were rotting flesh and dismembered body parts, and his feelings were empty holes and endless spirals. His words were poisonous arrows and torturous spells—his mouth was a cesspool of hate, negativity, and death.

There were so many  _ugly_ things inside of him. Gaius was brave for trying to peel back the layers, but once he saw what lay underneath he would do what everyone else has done in his case. Once he saw the truth, he would run away, he would hurt Henry—he would get hurt  _himself._ No one got out of Henry's antics with a clean slate, not even the person who demanded that it be cleaned in the first place.

(Not even the one that had inadvertently tried to  _save_ him. Well, Henry was beyond saving.)

There was something bitter about this resolve. Normally, when Henry decided things, he felt light and ready. But this time, there was something acidic in the back of his throat and inside his chest, something that yelled at him that he was making a mistake. That feeling of bitterness—the one full of doubt and suspicion—was a new feeling. It wasn't there before, so surely it couldn't be relied on in a time like this. Yes, Henry felt some hesitation in the matter, but he shooed it all away.

No one could change his mind when he really decided to do things. That's what he told himself, anyway, and that's the story he would stick to.

The only thing left to do now was to stick to it.

.

.

.

Henry hid the supplies he stole from the convoy wagon in an enchanted place within his own quarters. While the tents were pitched over dirt and grass alike, there was nothing stopping him from using a shovel, and nothing stopping him from casting a few spells after that. He made a little compartment in the ground, that which was enchanted to the point where no ordinary person could find it. Scratch that— _no one_ would find it unless they did some extensive hexing on their end, too. And knowing the other Shepherds like Henry did, he had nothing to fear.

The other magic users were weaker than him when it came to curses and dark magic of the like. Even if Tharja used one of her truth spells again, he could easily reflect it. If Ricken cast that light magic spell that revealed hidden secrets, he would simply block it. They were the only ones that could even hope to crack Henry's secret, but their introverted natures would never allow something as brave as confrontation of the personal matter to arise. While Ricken in particular might say how much he cared about Henry (and while Henry knew that to a great extent, that statement was  _true)_ he could not physically do anything to stop him.

Henry used to fantasize killing everyone at once. While he hasn't done anything of the kind at all, he would admit that at some point, he imagined himself setting Ricken on fire or zapping him to bits. He could very well still accomplish that, although it would kill him inside to even attempt the idea.

The point was that he couldn't be stopped. He wasn't  _being_ stopped in the least, not when his tent was undisturbed and he was hiding the goods with shocking ease. With the last wave of his hand, everything settled into place, and his quarters looked bare but normal. Untouched, yet inhabited like all the other tents. No one would suspect something was off.

Not even Gaius. Funny enough, Henry got the idea to bury his secrets underground based off that one time where he found Gaius' secret candy stash, way back when. It was such a long time ago that Henry found himself surprised at the speed of time, but also at all the things that have happened in between that first meeting and now.

Back then, Henry didn't remotely think of Gaius in any other way than being a general nuisance towards him. Now, however, he was feeling so  _strongly_ towards him that he was scared. He was scared of these unknown feelings, that which Gaius—and most other people—were so well versed in. All it would take is a turn of hand, and Henry's craftiness and unsteadiness would be eliminated right from underneath him. He would lose everything he had ever known—he would be torn to pieces and then ripped up again.

Whatever he felt towards Gaius now was dangerous. It was different. It was new. He admitted being attracted to danger, right? He admitted to liking Gaius, in a way. So, if he liked him so much, then shouldn't he be more considerate about the other's feelings? Shouldn't he stop, and ask Gaius for guidance in a trying time like this?

He banished those thoughts as soon as they entered.

He stopped thinking so hard about it.

Henry poked his head outside the tent to see if anyone was heading in his direction. When he saw nothing but tents and the occasional horse, he smiled to himself unknowingly. Then he went back inside the tent, and sighed deeply.

While he stored away most of the sedatives underground, he secured a small bottle for himself beforehand. From the way its contents swished around with a delicious sound, he knew he grabbed one of the syrupy variations of the medicine. He also saw various powders in the box, those that were meant to dissolve in hot water but also those that were meant to be bitterly swallowed down the patient's throat.

Henry anticipated all the ways he would indulge in his secret, and laughed at himself for spite of the situation. Then he unscrewed the cap on the bottle, and peeked down its murky depths. He had never been fond of things like syrup, as he always found the thick, slow moving substance to be suffocating and distasteful. But any feelings he had for the texture would be snuffed right out of him if the medicine did what it was supposed to. With that dry thought hanging in his mind, Henry brought the bottle to his lips and drank.

He, unfortunately, did not calculate how much of the substance he actually needed. The bottle was small and could fit in his hand, but the dosage inside could easily fit four or five spoonfuls. Henry drank with such fervor that he felt the container empty at such a quick rate—was it dangerous to have that many sedatives at once? Was he making a huge mistake again?

The sorcerer paused mid-drink, and wiped at his mouth when he felt abrupt drops escape his lips. The liquid sloshed slowly, and the cap cluttered to the ground. As Henry reached down to pick it up, he felt the sedatives' effect take hold of him right then and there.

He nearly gasped. It felt like ice water washed over him at once. He felt cool, light, and  _empty._ He felt like a feather riding the wind, like clouds thinning out at the endless horizon. The ringing in his ears stopped, and so did the frenetic pains his chest took to when his heart beat too fast. The dizziness his head had when he was thinking about Gaius stopped at once. Everything, and nothing, hit him with full force.

It felt  _amazing._ All the misery from head-to-toe disappeared without any protest. Everything from the smallest inconvenience to the largest injury suddenly seemed far away and unreal. Everything had that distant effect, actually, and it was as if the world had suddenly appeared murky and discolored—like Henry was seeing through a lens and not with his own two eyes. A layer of film and air separated Henry's mind from Henry's body, and the disconnect between the two was neither unpleasant or harmful.

It was actually quite nice.

He laughed to himself. He laughed  _hard,_ and normally laughing  _too hard_ would make his stomach hurt and his insides wheeze, but he didn't feel any of that. He didn't feel the sensation of laughter at  _all_ , as it seemed that the noises escaped him on their own. He didn't feel the weight of his own clothes anymore, or the weight of  _anything_ to begin with. The weight from his shoulders disappeared. The weight from his mind lifted. The weight from his heart sunk through until it fell in a bottomless pit of nothingness.

That thought entertained another.  _My heart,_ he thought.  _Is it still there?_ He reached over his chest, and scrambled his fingers around the fabric as if searching for something. While the world doused itself in cold water and froze in the same instant, the fire that was once his heart disappeared, as well. The blood didn't rush through his ears anymore—the buzz didn't spread through his fingers anymore. The dull noise that was a heartbeat wasn't even audible anymore, and Henry vaguely wondered if he really, truly lost it.

Did he lose his heart?

He noticed a weak throbbing beneath his still fingertips as he let them hover over his chest, and that's when he knew he wasn't dead.

But he didn't feel alive, either.

He didn't feel anything.

Henry looked at the near-empty bottle once more, and thought for only a few seconds before he decided to empty it completely this time. He brought the bottle to his lips—another sensation which he did  _not_ feel—and drank again. He couldn't tell if the liquid was seeping through his mouth or not, and he held his awkward position there for an indefinite amount of time.

Then he moved again, and opened one eye to see if the bottle was empty.

It was.

He smiled.

.

.

.

Henry was floating on air. Or maybe he was swimming through a shallow sea. Either way, he moved with such delicacy and happiness that it couldn't have been the same old ground beneath his feet. And the way that people were bobbing like buoys at sea made it clear that they, too, were unstable. They, too, were riding these waves, although they seemed less happy than Henry as they did so.

The colors around Henry weren't any different, but somehow things looked  _brighter_ than they were before. Things appeared vibrant and muted all at once. Sometimes the world looked like glass that someone had breathed air on, so the hot steam spread across the surface and obscured the view. Other times, it seemed as if the world was on hyper focus, and things were so startlingly clear that Henry could count out the number of thorns on a distant rosebush—or he could recount the vivid pattern of someone's robes when they walked in front of him.

Once, it was as if both views of the world collided into the same scope that were Henry's eyes. And he unknowingly laughed, muttering to himself: "That's pretty, I wonder if the world was always like this and I'm just seeing it now, or if the world is only like this  _because_ I'm seeing it now?"

His question was never answered, but he didn't mind. He just kept moving in that world full of water and light. He kept swaying in between figures, those that were blurred at times and others that were sharp and in-focus. Sometimes, he heard voices call out to him, and he just dismissed them with a smile and a wave. Other times, he felt something grab him, but he sloughed off the contact with fake jubilee.

Henry was floating and swimming—fading and appearing—all at once. He was overstimulated at best and overwhelmed at worst. But he wasn't in  _pain,_ and that's all that mattered.

That's all he cared about as he meandered around aimlessly, head tilted towards the heavens above—as if to hear a long-anticipated answer from some unknown deity.

He heard nothing but the sound of his own laughter.

.

.

.

"Henry, are you alright?"

The words weaved in and out of reality. Henry heard them to the extent which he believed he might, but then paused with a semi-smile on his face because he couldn't quite figure out what he was hearing or not. Looking in the direction of where the voice came from (or where he  _hoped_ it came from), he said:

"I'm more than alright! I'm great!"

"That's good, but are you sure about that? Y-You seem a little off…"

The stutter gave it away. He didn't know that many people, but only one person could crack underneath their own niceties like that. Henry giggled at the revelation.

"What do you mean, Ricken?"

"I mean, I saw you by the mess halls earlier, and you weren't walking straight. You're not injured, are you? Robin told me one time they saw you with an ugly gash in your side and you didn't even blink an eye!"

"Yeah, well, it's weird how pain works. Sometimes you feel it so badly that you want to die, other times it doesn't even rear its ugly head! Not even when it should! So what about it?"

"I asked if you were injured."

"Huh. I wonder."

"Henry, please! I don't know what it is, but something feels... _wrong._ "

A frown threatened to take hold of Henry's face. The ice seeping through his veins quieted his anger, though, and brought a sunny expression to his countenance, instead. As he shook his head, he relished in the cold sensations of breeziness he felt as he did so.

"I'm telling you, I'm just fine! Not any different from normal, no sirree!"

"..."

"Come on, Ricken! Why're you so worried? Is it 'cause we're all so healed now that they're gonna make us start being soldiers again? Do you need another big break to take another sweet vacation off? If you want, I can curse you with something so sick, you won't move for weeks!"

"That's not funny, Henry. We don't need another break, and if we do, I want it to be well-earned and not because of injuries in battle!"

"You say it's not funny, but we have different senses of humor, you and I. So, there!"

Henry thought that he pointed an accusatory finger in Ricken's direction. He was sure of it when Ricken seemed unamused, and swatted his hand down in an annoyed manner.

"This doesn't have to do with Gaius, does it?"

"Eh? What do you mean? I wasn't talking about Honeybuns at all!"

Ricken didn't speak for a while. Henry assumed he left, or that the sedatives didn't give him the wherewithal to notice his presence all the way. Both ideas were incorrect as Ricken's voice cut through the dry air once more.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Huh?"

"Did you forget? Gaius went to you the other day, and you got into a huge fight with him. He didn't tell anyone the details except for Robin, and I've only heard rumors at best...but I figured that if anything was bothering you today, it would be that."

"...What are you  _talking about,_ Ricken? I haven't seen Gaius since we got here at the new camp. Which was, like,  _yesterday_ or something."

"What are  _you_ talking about, Henry? We've been here for almost a week now, and he's  _definitely_  talked to you before! Everyone has, actually. So i-is something wrong, Henry? How come you don't remember all that?"

"Hmm~ I wonder! It's a bit strange, isn't it? Might be a curse or something. Well, I'm leaving now! Bye!"

His body moved very quickly. He registered the sound of a chair being squeaked against the floor, and then the sound of dull footsteps resonating underneath him. He also became aware of Ricken's irritated but concerned voice piercing the air with its suddenly brave tones, and the touch that the other boy's skin had when he brushed against him in an attempt to grab him. Finally, Henry noticed the wind, and how it blew against his body with full force when ran outside with all his might.

He dodged the noise and the stimulation that suddenly attacked him all at once. The throbbing in his head returned, as did the ringing in his ears (albeit softly, gently—as if to sweetly remind him that it was still there after all this time). And the sun seemed  _too_ bright and the colors were  _too_ vivid, to the point where everything appeared widely fabricated like it were from some picture book, instead.

This wasn't a story, though. This was reality.

Henry hated it all the same.


	17. Yearnings and Yellings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This is a double update, so if you haven't read the chapter before this, you might wanna do that! Anyway, this chapter has emetophobia, drug abuse and its effects, etc. etc. There is also a small instance of self-harm, so be wary.

On the first day that Henry indulged in his painkillers, he felt great. The world was moving at a new speed, but he enjoyed the pace like any other. His mind turned at odd angles, but he appreciated the perspective all the while. Things changed in ways he couldn't anticipate, but he looked forward to them with the same fervor as before.

Nothing seemed too bad on that first day. He wasn't needed past his chore of emptying the convoy wagon, and no one was in any particular rush to find him.

The first day was easy.

The second day was a bit harder, though. Henry woke up with the same things he had before the drugs—ringing in his ears, throbbing in his head, aches in his heart—and he frowned at the realization of such. Of course, he never told anyone about the ringing in his ears. They were there since the cave incident, although they disappeared and reappeared at random intervals. Sometimes they were deafeningly loud, other times they were quiet and unnoticeable and Henry forgot they existed until they came back around in passionate thrums.

He also didn't tell them about the throbbing in his head, but that had more to do with his irregular sleeping schedule and the side effects of his dark magic more than anything. There was also the fact that his heart aches started appearing when Gaius started acting friendlier to him, and it was one of those mysteries that Henry felt he would be unable to solve.

He left all of those realizations as they were, but they each weighed heavily on him, regardless. The weight was painful in and of itself, although the pain was different from any injury that Henry has ever had.

This pain wasn't necessarily as tangible, but it left an awful taste in his mouth. He decided that he didn't like it, and he had just the thing to remedy it, too.

He took out some of the painkillers from the underground compartment. He decided to try his hand on something new, this time. There were several little packets full of colored powder, that which he narrowed down to being the sedatives that were supposed to be dissolved in water before usage. There was going to be water at the mess hall for breakfast this morning, right? So then he would be able to use it as a means of taking his medicine. Henry smiled at the thought of it as he snuck a few of the packets away into one of his pockets.

On the morning of the second day, Henry went to the mess hall. He saw Tharja, Miriel, and Maribelle there, so he joined them for breakfast before morning patrols and other services would start. They all had drinks placed around them, and Henry grabbed one of the hot water cups for himself. He waited until the three women were occupied with something else, and he took that time as his opportunity to slip the sedatives into his drink.

By the time he was done, Maribelle's eyes darted over to him. He took the sugar cubes and pretended to submerge them in his drink—he pretended it was coffee. She smiled at him and asked if he would like creamer, as well, but he quickly denied it and said he had his own way of doing things. She didn't press him on the matter, but there  _was_  a flash of suspicion that crossed her face for a brief moment.

The feelings disappeared, along with the powder that melted into the hot water in Henry's cup. Tharja went on about a new curse she'd been working on, and Miriel was discussing if she would like a collaboration on one of her books she was writing—memoirs about magic used in the field. Lissa came by and sat at the table next to Maribelle, and burned a positively bright shade of pink (Henry guessed the color since his eyes were closed) when the duchess complimented her on her everything.

As this all happened, Henry acted like he was paying attention. He laughed, nodded, and said a word here and there to anyone that wanted one. When they all looked away, and when they all decided they had better things to do, Henry downed his drink in one go.

He didn't care that he scalded his tongue on the hot water. He didn't care that his drink tasted like chopped up dirt and shriveled weeds put into rainwater. He didn't care that his skin burned red at the temperature seeping through the cup.

When the drugs kicked in moments later, Henry found it quite funny that he didn't care about anything, anymore.

.

.

.

The second day passed much like the first. Henry was there but not quite, and if he wasn't so quirky all the time, some people would have suspected that something was actually wrong. But he attended Frederick's Fanatical Fitness Hour, he did his share of patrols and armory checks, and he even contributed in the mess hall meals during dinnertime. On any other occasion, no one would notice that something was amiss.

Gaius did, however. He glanced at Henry from across the room, and made subtle movements in his direction—those little nods and thoughtful looks that signaled out " _Hey, come here!"_ or something to that effect. Knowing Henry's secret like Gaius did, he was sure that the white-haired boy would notice him through closed eyelids, and that he would bound over with that stupid grin on his face like always.

That was not the case this time around. Henry might have looked at Gaius' general direction once or twice, but he made no indications that he acknowledged the other's presence. To this, Gaius was slightly miffed, because he didn't like being ignored too much—especially when he went out of his way to signal at someone first. The more rational part of him decided that Henry just didn't see him, so he tried to signal at him once more.

When Henry's face turned to look straight at him—and when the boy did nothing more but smile blankly as he always did— _that's_  when Gaius knew something was off. He had the strangest feeling that Henry's disposition was just  _too_ flighty today, and that his actions were more distant than usual.

He was worried.

But the day was over, and soldiers would be returning to their quarters to sleep, while others stayed awake either patrolling the campgrounds or doing their own thing. Regardless, Gaius found himself unable to meet Henry again, and figured he could bother him about it in the morning.

As he laid down in bed, the assassin couldn't help but wonder if he made a mistake somewhere along the road. He couldn't help but worry that he had hurt the sorcerer in some manner, and the passive attitude he wore that day was a retaliation of such behavior. Maybe there was some unspoken boundary he had crossed, and maybe there was an unknown offense hanging in the air between them. He tossed and turned at his own thoughts, and realized that he wouldn't get anywhere as long as he stayed up as late as he was.

Gaius went to bed shortly thereafter, and needless to say he dreamt about Henry.

.

.

.

Third day was the pits.

Henry didn't feel too good. In fact, he felt nauseous and the first thing he did was dry heave for ten minutes straight. When his body produced nothing in the way of vomit, Henry decided that it would come out one way or another.

Sickeningly enough, he ended up in the latrine for a longer time than he'd like to admit. When he was done with it all, he felt empty and sick again, and the smell clung to his nose like a plague hanging over him.

He blocked out the odor and the rest of the undesirable things with another dose of the sedatives. He was sure there was a proper name for them somewhere, but along with the rest of the information on the papers, he couldn't be bothered to read for it. Maybe he'd just stick with painkillers, because he liked the idea that things other than animals and plants could die out. He liked the idea that the words he spoke and uttered were powerful enough to kill and hurt each other.

He liked the idea of never feeling pain again. He liked the idea that he could kill pain like he could kill an enemy soldier or Risen.

He liked it.

During training practice on the third day, Henry got partnered up with Nowi. He was one of the few soldiers that had the energy to keep up with her, after all, and she quite liked him even with his eccentric nature and all that came along with it. If she wasn't so goody-goody, Henry might have liked her even more than he already did.

Of course, it was a bad idea to be partnered up with someone as lively as Nowi, especially when Henry felt less visible than the air itself, or that he might keel over with sudden exhaustion and lightheadedness. It was strange because the painkillers were supposed to take care of that, but he supposed that even life-changing medicine had its side effects.

The majority of the practice battle spent was Henry trying to dodge oncoming flames, and failing in almost every aspect of doing so. If it weren't for Nowi's control on her end, he would have been burned alive several times over. This revelation should have worried him, but for some reason he kept thinking about riding Nowi's dragon form instead, and if he could nap peacefully in the air while she flapped her wings in monstrous movements below him.

"Hey!" she called out to him, pulling him out of his dazed stupor with her voice that echoed in draconic overtones. "What's wrong, Henry? You're spacing out on me!"

"Sorry, Nowi," he told her. The words slurred together just the tiniest bit, and he said the next few sentences with as much false energy as he could muster. "Just got a lot on my mind~ Or something like that. Maybe the enemy cursed me, after all!"

Although she was suspicious of his words, she ultimately accepted his half-baked apology, and the two of them resumed their sparring session. They were in the presence of Miriel and Libra, as well, both of who were sparring with each other alongside them. Yet the two of them seemed less focused on their own troubles as they eyed the younger two beings with concern. Henry would have thrown a dark joke in their direction, had he known they were there to begin with. It would have cut through the tension in the air, at the very least.

But Henry  _didn't_ know that they were there, so the atmosphere around them remained stifled and awkward.

The fight started without his permission, yet Henry managed to dodge Nowi's assailing flames once more. She seemed to grow weary of that tactic, and switched to something more tame than usual. Nowi flapped her wings into the air, and used the motions to create beats of wind that shot out and tried to topple Henry over. He did nothing but stand there as the wind hit him full on, blowing his bangs up and letting his cape billow out behind him. He laughed softly at the breezes passing him by, feeling warm and safe in their ephemeral embrace.

Eventually, Nowi stopped beating her wings. She stayed in the air, however, examining her opponent's movements with a strange hesitance. Henry stood as still as a statue for that time.

Then, exactly one minute and forty seconds later, Henry crumbled to the ground like a paper doll.

He passed out.

.

.

.

When Henry stirred on the fourth day, he felt like absolute shit. He woke up in his own tent, then panicked at the realization that he was not the one to put himself there in the first place. Someone carried him there, and that meant someone was in his quarters long enough to inspect the place. While he still doubted it, there was a chance they found his stash.

The Plegian discovered the box full of medicinal treatments to still be in one piece, but much to his disdain and disappointment, the plants in there started to wilt. They were still salvageable, but he knew that if he didn't act fast, then his little inventory would be cut in half if he had to throw out the dead plants like he feared he would. So, he scooped out the tiny leaves and stems from inside the box, and shoved them in whatever pocket or fold he could find on his person. Then he walked out of his room with a slouch that didn't match his smile, and he kindly disregarded everyone that passed him by in the same motion.

He vaguely entertained the idea of stuffing all of the plants inside another hot glass of water, but Henry was dazed to the point where he couldn't possibly pour hot water for himself without spilling—so he settled for the next best thing.

He ate the raw plants and restoratives by themselves, grinding the stems and leaves down with his teeth, and chewing on the strange textures in between. He didn't know if taking the painkillers from the direct source would even work or not, but he decided that it would be better to try than not at all. It all tasted like weeds and manure in his mouth, but he didn't care. Once the effects kicked in, he could set himself on fire and not feel a thing. Eating disgusting food is nothing in comparison, if that was the case.

The fourth day was objectively worse than the third, because Henry's plan to eat the raw plants and get on his dazed high failed entirely. He didn't feel the mind-and-body numbing effects like before, and he certainly didn't feel happier, either.

Instead, Henry felt his stomach churn violently, and he ran to the farthest place he could before throwing himself onto the ground. Then he huddled over the dirt, and smeared it with the various colors that escaped his mouth in uncontrolled streams of vomit The disgusting acts didn't stop there, and Henry found himself upchucking anything and everything that had been in his system for the past few days.

By the time he was done, he felt exhausted and ready to go to bed, even though the day had literally just begun. But he couldn't get away with sleeping through a whole day, so he thought of another solution.

He went to a nearby river and dunked his head in, only to find the cleansing process insufficient unless he threw his whole body in the water, too. So he did exactly that as he silently submerged himself in the clear river. As he sat there soaking (and as the vomit and other dirty things floated off of him and down the stream), he reflected on himself, and wondered why he ended up in the situation he was currently in. He wondered why he was feeling so bad, and why the pain had stirred itself into new angles throughout his body.

He wondered why he was even  _thinking_ to begin with, as the drugs promised him reprieve for mind  _and_ body. He was supposed to be floating. He was supposed to be light.

Instead, he felt heavy and very much stuck to the ground. It didn't help that the ringing assaulted his ears again, or that his head throbbed with inconsistencies that never made sense to begin with. His hands trembled, and he brought them up to his face only to pull and push at the meat he found by squeezing his cheeks between his fingers. He repeated these motions several times over, until he finally had enough.

Henry stood up from the river, ignored the chill of the wind that assaulted him, and walked back to camp.

He continued his dismissive waves as he ignored the angry shouts of the others he passed by. He ignored Gaius' rough hands and concerned voice, too. He ignored everything as he shuffled past them all, with nothing but the desire to remain holed up in his tent for an indefinite amount of time. That's what should have happened—that's where the fourth day should have ended.

Instead, Gaius pulled on his hand a second time, and Henry's mind reeled alongside his body in that singular motion. By the time Gaius turned Henry around on his heels to properly face him, he realized something awful.

Henry fell asleep, but not before his eyes were open and not before Gaius caught a glimpse of their dazed and cloudy appearance. They weren't colored purple, blue, indigo, or any of the pretty things that Gaius had seen before.

Henry's eyes were  _black,_ and dull as a well-used pencil or a worn-out blade. His eyes were devoid of any mischievous gleam or sinister shine. They certainly didn't have the mystery or magic that used to be there before, and they absolutely didn't look as focused or thoughtful as they were before, either.

His eyes were black and null of everything except that blackness. Soon enough, they disappeared behind closed eyelids, and remained that way as the body they shared seemed to shut down. Henry whimpered pathetically—a noise that was quite unusual for him to make and did nothing but set Gaius' mind on fire with worry—and shivered violently before fainting. Then he fell against the other with the light force of his body, collapsing into Gaius' arms like he had always belonged there.

Gaius would have found the action endearing if he wasn't so frustrated with the other's behavior. Henry keeled over, but in doing so he ended up in a compromising position where he smothered his face against the top of Gaius' chest—where the strands of his white hair tickled the base of Gaius' neck.

The assassin resisted the urge to laugh, and instead he used his arms to steady the sorcerer, and hold him in the same motion as he propped him up on his back. Then he carried the sleeping boy back to his tent, grumbling about how inconvenient the situation was as he did so.

Oddly enough, this reminded him of a time long ago, where he had to carry the same sleeping boy on his back for at least a mile until they got back to the Shepherds' camp. It was so long ago, and Gaius still hated Henry's guts back then. In fact, they hated each other so much that their battle with the enemy Risen weighed heavily on them, and it was the first time in the entire war campaign where either of the two felt like they were going to die.

So much time passed since then, but carrying Henry on his back reminded Gaius of the old memories. Some of them were admittingly hazy, but others were painted with stark and vivid colors, such that Gaius couldn't forget them even if he  _tried._

(And sometimes, he did  _try._ )

On the fourth day, Henry fainted and Gaius returned him to his bed. Gaius also resolved within himself that he would confront Henry the next morning, and ask him about the strange behavior he had shown over the last few days.

On the fourth day, Henry did  _not_ dream about Gaius. Instead, his dreams were occupied by visions of himself flying, flying, and  _flying_ up in the sky where no one could touch him. In those dreams, his wings were pearly white and large, beating wind and thunder with each flap he made. Also in those dreams, Henry was reaching a place previously undiscovered, and he smiled at the sights before him.

On the fourth day, Henry dreamed that his wings melted off his back, and he had no choice but to fall to the oblivion below him whilst his feathers drifted down in tandem.

.

.

.

Day five rolled around.

Henry felt bad.

He stopped worrying so much, and realized that all the gross things like throwing up could be avoided if he got his daily intake of drugs as soon as possible. The moment he was conscious, Henry spent all his energy into unearthing his stash, and twisting open the bottles in frenzied movements. These ones were in powdered form again, but he didn't have time to entertain them with hot water like usual. He just opened the packets with slight movements, and emptied out the dry powder reserves straight into his mouth.

He coughed and hacked on the substance, sending sprays of it everywhere as he did so. The colors contrasted with his outfit, and it vaguely looked like Henry had been assaulted by a blackboard eraser for a short moment. The powder turned chalky on his clothes, and fell off in colored clumps that left impressions behind.

He might have cared more, but his outfit was already disgusting because it smelled like old river water and acid. It also had the faint hint of throw up on it, still, something he wondered if the others noticed or not.

Maybe that's why he got so many nasty looks the other day.

Either way, the dust got everywhere, and the initial shock of inhaling too much of it at once disappeared when the effects kicked in. Henry loved this part—he loved it when his veins turned to ice and his mind froze over with the same coolness and certainty. He loved it when his body registered nothing from gashes to stubbed toes. He loved it when his eyes swam with weird visions and colorful spots, mixing the reality in front of him with the fantasy in his mind.

He loved it.

He loved it so much that he inhaled more than he normally did. Henry's mouth transformed into a powder palace on its own, because his face was smeared with stray dust and saliva. His hands moved inaccurately and involuntarily, and he found himself shaking all the while.

Just as he had the strength to put the remains of his stash away, the tent flaps to his quarters opened up violently. Henry looked up at the perpetrator with a cloudy look in his eye, and laughed as loudly as he could.

"Oh, Honeybuns," he lamented. "Don't you know how to knock?"

.

.

.

Day five was still there. Gaius woke up early, got some training and exercise in, and even served on the dawn patrol alongside Libra and Nowi. The kid was too energetic for the two grown males, and it showed when she dragged them along to something bright and adventurous, forgetting the entire purpose of a patrol was to not run around noticeably, but to keep at a steady pace and stay alert for possible threats.

Either way, Gaius was up early, and in those early hours he formulated his plan for the rest of the day.

He decided that he would visit Henry first thing in the morning, and demand the answers that the other has kept secret for so long. He wanted to know why Henry was acting so weird. He wanted to know why so many people whispered strange rumors about him in the past few days. He wanted to know why Henry had been avoiding him since they first settled in their new camp. He wanted to know why Henry fainted the other day.

He wanted to know.

And the curse that came with curiosity was the truth that one wanted so badly in the first place. Gaius found himself face to face with a reality he didn't necessarily want nor expect to happen, yet it was there all the same.

He huffed quietly, then spread open the tent flaps with a practiced but angry movement. He expected to see Henry asleep on his bed, or at least walking around and getting ready for the day. He expected him to smile at him in a (fake) cheerful manner, and give some wisecrack about his persistence, or something to that degree. He expected to see a magic circle come to life, with a sacrifice in the middle of it and a sorcerer standing to the side while chanting strange words.

Gaius expected everything except what he actually saw.

And what he saw wasn't very pretty.

Henry was sat on the floor, huddled over something but looking utterly guilty about it. His smile wavered into funny curves, that which only made him laugh harder as he ogled Gaius' concerned expression. The boy's face was smeared with colorful substances, as were the whole front side of his clothes. Additionally, his body was shaking ever so slightly, and the half hearted motions that the rest of his body took on said something about its condition.

Gaius gulped.

Henry laughed, albeit weakly. "Oh, Honeybuns. Don't you know how to knock?"

"This is a tent," Gaius deadpanned. "There's no Gods-damned doors in a tent."

"Libra would die hearing you say the Gods names in vain," Henry countered. "He might just die anyway, Oh well."

"Henry,  _what_  are you doing?"

"Huh? I dunno. Ask again later."

" _Henry._ "

"Sheesh, sheesh! What's with the first name basis,  _huuuh?"_ the vowels were elongated more than normal. The drawl in Henry's voice sounded too  _sedate_ to be funny.

Gaius didn't like the picture that was coming together in his head. He kept talking to stall its completion.

"This is a serious matter. What're you doing? And how come you've been acting strange lately?"

"What's it matter to you," Henry muttered beneath his breath. "You don't care about me."

" _What?"_ Gaius yelled, the loudness of his voice shocking even himself. He toned it down just a little before repeating himself, but it did nothing to hide his obvious distraught. " _What?"_

"You don't care about me," Henry simply said. "Or something like that."

"Henry, what's  _wrong_ with you? Why are you—"

"—There's too many things wrong with me, Honeybuns. Do you want the alphabetical list or the chronological list?"

"Stop that!" he snapped at him, not feeling any guilt when he saw a visible flinch take hold of the other's body. "Are you... _drunk?_ Henry, have you been drinking?"

"...Pfft," he sputtered. "Pfft...Hahahaha!" his laughter escaped before him in voluminous eruptions, and he held his face in his hands with unsteady fingers. "Oh, he thinks I'm  _drunk!_ You think I'm drunk! I haven't been  _drinking,_ Honeybuns. At least, not the things you  _think_ I've been drinking."

"If you're not drunk, then what's going on? This ain't like you, Jun—Henry." he wanted to revert to nicknames since that was what Henry seemed intent on doing, but he knew that doing so would only play into the game that the other surely set up for him. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction of it all  _that_ easily.

Henry talked in a somewhat unbothered tone, anyway. "I don't know how say this, so I'll just show you."

"What are you gonna show me—"

Before Gaius could finish talking, Henry jumped to his feet in a matter of seconds. Then he reached for one of Gaius' arm-swords—the ones that stuck out from his sides waiting to be dislodged and used against enemies—and took it from its place. Gaius was confused, but had no time to act before Henry did the unthinkable.

He brandished the blade in his right hand, and cut a long line down his left arm. He went right through the thin material of his outfit, and sliced through dark skin as crimson blood leaked out the wound he left for himself. The blade collected this blood, and let it drip from its sharp edge with every passing second.

That was the last straw.

Gaius quickly grabbed the knife from Henry, and threw it far to the side where it clattered against the ground. Then he shoved the boy as far back as he could, ignoring the sounds of protest that escaped the other's chapped, bruised lips. Gaius ended up straddling Henry on the sorcerer's bed, pinning both of his arms down to prevent him from hurting himself any further. The greens in his eyes turned to acid, and he bore a venomous stare down at the boy beneath him.

Gaius trembled, and freshly hot anger continued to surge through him all the while. The smile that Henry usually wore was  _still_ somehow in place. He gave him kudos for persistence, at the very least. Otherwise he was very, very,  _very_ unhappy with this outcome. He willed himself not to stare at the crimson line that now ran down Henry's left arm—he forced himself to ignore the blood that was staining his own fingertips as he held him there with an iron grip.

He shouted: "Don't  _ever_ do that again! Do you hear me, Henry? Never again!"

"Haha…" Henry laughed weakly, and shook his head. "No, I  _don't_ hear you, Gaius. Don't you get it?"

"Get what?"

"I don't  _feel_ it," he almost whispered the words out, as if they were too sacred to be heard by mere humans. "I don't feel the cut I just gave myself."

" _What?"_ Gaius hissed out the question, completely enraged  _and_ confused. "What do you mean you don't feel it? Don't lie to me, Henry. You're hurt and I can see it—"

"—I'm not hurt because I don't feel  _pain,_ " Henry said. "I haven't felt pain in the past few days."

"What do you mean? Explain things better, you Gods-damned idiot!"

"Did you know the medics have drugs that numb you from pain? I wouldn't feel my toe if I stubbed it. I don't even really feel you on top of me right now," the words came out in coherent sentences, but they were spoken in such a disjointed way that Gaius felt cold listening to them. It was as if Henry were some machine, instead of the living breathing being he was.

Gaius wasn't having it, no matter the situation. "Why would something like that exist? And more importantly, why have you been  _taking it?_ Henry, this isn't  _good._ "

"I know it's not," Henry conceded softly. His voice sounded really far away, now. His eyes opened, too, but they were still as black as they were yesterday. He continued speaking throughout all these little moments. "That's  _why_  I did it, dummy."

"..." There were so many words Gaius wanted to say. Instead, he felt the frustration and indignation rise up through his body, completely simultaneous with the shame and regret that filled his heart just now. Henry had been suffering enough to the point where he needed release? He had been shouldering the pain to the point where he couldn't take it anymore, so he relied on drugs? Why would he, though? And when did he get access to such vile things? Gaius wanted to say all of this and more, but it all died out on his tongue.

Henry found a new surge of energy and kept talking. "I stole it."

"You  _what?"_

"I stole the medicine."

"From where? Where did you steal it from?"

"The first day we came here, Frederick asked me to help unload the convoy wagons. I was in a healer's tent with Libra when I found it all stuffed in a box somewhere."

 _He had a whole box of that shit? Not just a bottle or two, but a whole box?_ Gaius blanched at the thoughts forming his mind. He tried to pretend that he didn't feel icy, because he needed the fire to burn Henry.

(He needed the heat to keep him warm.)

"Why, Henry? Why'd you do it?"

"Why did I cut myself, or why did I take the stuff?"

"Both, you idiot."

"I dunno. Maybe you should kill me and ask my ghost." A sneer appeared on his face. "I'm not entirely here right now so none of my answers are valid, after all!"

Gaius didn't speak. He let his actions do the talking for him this time, and he hissed as his hand stung with the fresh force of  _hitting something._ In this case, Gaius let go of Henry's left hand, only to slap him across the face in the same movement. He watched the golden-brown color of Henry's skin turn red, and he watched as the boy's face whipped pitifully in the direction he had been slapped in. Worse was that Henry was too dazed to inspect the damage, and he didn't even turn his head back to stare up at Gaius anymore.

He felt sick.

He got up.

He was halfway out the tent when he heard Henry sigh pitifully behind him.

"Well, this sucks. Turns out you're just like everyone else, after all."

"What do you mean?"

"You're just gonna leave me here," Henry said, with no emotion coloring his voice whatsoever. "But it's fine. 'M used to it, anyway. Being left alone, I mean."

Gaius paused for a short moment, then he swiveled on his heels to stare down the other in the eye. "I'm leaving," he reinforced the idea. "I'm leaving to get you some  _bandages._ You're still injured, you idiot."

"That's—"

"—You're a fool if you think I'll abandon you right now. You're a fool for so many things that I think I've lost count, Henry."

"Gaius…"

"Shut up, and stay put. I'm leaving for now, but I'll be back." He didn't move, despite his claims. Then he added on: "I'll be back."

He disappeared behind the tent flaps, leaving nothing in his wake except for the bloody Henry and the scent of mint in the air. The fragrance made Henry's nose and stomach feel upset, but he didn't feel it as he should since the medicine was still surging throughout his body.

Yet, he had the strange inkling that the pain was there, all the same. He curled in on himself, and laughed quietly.

He was such a  _mess,_ after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for putting up with this fic, so far! Things have taken a darker turn again, but worry not because they'll get better after this. 
> 
> On the other hand, there might not be a new chapter update for a while. I say this because I plan on _rewriting_ most of the earlier chapters, to keep it up to date with my current writing style (again). This time, things will be consistent, so reading this fic in its entirety will be a more pleasant thing to do. 
> 
> Hopefully this double chapter update has made up for this future inconvenience ahead of time! That being said, I'll thank everyone that's read this far with all my heart! Thank you so much for holding interest in my work, and thank you for tolerating my changing writing styles. Soon, everything will be consistent, and all will be right the world (and me). 
> 
> Stay safe!


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